Lupus Fortis
by MaidenStar
Summary: 'I must protect Nymphadora. That's all that matters.' After attacking Tonks one full moon, an ashamed Remus leaves and finds a group of werewolves dedicated to fighting the forces of Fenrir Greyback. Working with them, the ex-Professor learns a few lessons of his own, about just how easy a normal life could be, if only they can all make it out of this war alive.
1. The Violence of the Moon

**A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first multi-chapter since an Ashes to Ashes one I posted in the summer and my first R/T one since 'Kiss the Rain', which feels like forever-ago. I'm not sure how long this one will be, I've got what I reckon to be half of it 100% completed and the rest is on its way. I'm always a bit dubious about posting unfinished pieces (hence why I mostly write one shots) because I always get really busy with school and have to stop writing. Hopefully that shouldn't happen now I've got exams out the way until May/June (hurrah!) and I can get this one on its way.**

**So I'm going to exploring the lives of our favourite werewolf (swoon) and Metamorphmagus if they got together, Remus ended up breaking out one full moon and attacking Tonks and so consequently broke up with her. Remus, who loses a sense of purpose, finds this group of werewolves sick of persecution because of mean, horrible werewolves like Fenrir Greyback who give them a bad name (bah humbug, Greyback) and are fighting back. They're basically like the anti-Christ of Greyback and Voldie. **

**Any hoo I hope this turns out to be interesting – please let me know how you find it: reviews containing any ideas and tips for up and coming chapters are ****heartily welcomed (which, in other words means, 'prayed for day and night').**

**Now bring on the story...**

**Disclaimer: I am blonde and British (just about, anyway) but I'm not worth millions of pounds and I definitely don't have an OBE, so I guess I can't be J.K. Rowling, so that means I can never own them. Eh, I'll just borrow them for a while, until I get bored of playing...**

**-/-/-**

Lupus Fortis

Chapter 1: The Violence of the Moon

He shifted his weight awkwardly as he simultaneously tried to turn the page of his book. The specks of dust danced around the pages of his ancient, leather bound hardback, illuminated in the singular weak beam of sunlight that had managed to battle its way through the pewter clouds.

He sighed as he struggled to read the faded words on the careworn page – it would be dusk soon. He always dreaded the build up to sunset; it never failed to feel both too quick and too slow. The only thing he could tell himself was that sunrise tomorrow would be the furthest away he could ever be from the full moon and the transformation that came with it and that it was also the most human he would ever be.

"Remus?" a voice called softly from the other side of the flat, jolting him out of his reverie. There was a pause for a moment as he considered getting up and greeting his better half but as he moved, the usual pre-transformation pangs down his back and legs made him decide otherwise.

"Yeah Dora?" he called back, hoping she wouldn't mind.

"I'm home!" she called unnecessarily. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

"I'm fine thanks," he replied, knowing that there was no point trying to even drink anything now – he'd only regret it in a few hours time.

Even from the living room he could hear Tonks clattering around in the kitchen, obviously fixing herself something to eat. He remembered the first few transformations she'd been involved in on the occasions she'd planned to stay overnight at Grimmauld Place, when Sirius had been alive. On the extremely rare instances when Sirius had actually been given an Order duty to do and it had been only the two of them, she'd tried to bring him everything he could possibly need and do everything right – always offering him something else to eat or drink, or asking if he needed something for the pain in his bones or wanted her to do anything. In truth, there was nothing she _could_ do and she'd soon learnt that fact and accepted that he wasn't just refusing all help out of pure stubbornness. Nowadays, the day of the full moon was very nearly as normal as any other. Not that that didn't mean he no longer worried about undergoing a transformation under the same roof as Tonks, (especially now they were both living in her flat) or that he had stopped thinking about how their relationship was damaging her reputation and credibility at work.

Tonks appeared in the room a moment later, carrying a steaming mug of tea in one hand and sandwich on a small plate in the other, she had her eyes fixed on the ground around her, tongue between teeth, looking for any possible obstacles or bare patches in the carpet waiting to dupe her and cause her to stumble. She deposited her things on the coffee table and collapsed heavily onto the sofa with a sigh. She tucked her legs beneath her and leaned against him.

Remus closed his book with a snap, tossed it onto the same coffee table and smiled affectionately at her, leaning over to kiss her chastely on the lips; a gesture which soon turned into a longer, more tender kiss. She broke away eventually when the need to yawn overcame her,

"S-s-sorry, m'just so tired," she said from behind her hand, her fingernails today a bright peach colour.

"Hard day at work?" he asked concernedly, linking their fingers together.

"Yeah, Umbridge _still_ feels the need to poke her podgy nose where it's not wanted and then run – well, I say run, I mean waddle – back to the Minister, quoting all our faults _and_ inventing some new ones too just so he'll put more pressure on the department. You should see how stressed everyone is at the moment, even Kingsley has started losing his temper. She wants proof that the Death Eaters are out there because otherwise, in her opinion, our efforts could be better directed on catching dark creatures and half breeds..." she trailed off, "but that's an entirely different can of Flobberworms," she said hurriedly trying to detract from what she obviously thought was a bit of a blunder on her part. After a minute's pause she looked up at him awkwardly, peering through her currently midnight blue fringe. "Sorry. You know I didn't mean anything by it, it's just Umbridge, the bitch, people like her get me really angry; it came out wrong..." she paused when he snorted slightly,

"S'fine, 'Dora. I hadn't even noticed anyway and even if I had, you get used to people like her when you've had as long as I've had, just don't take the bait, that's what she wants," he said, knowing full well that news of their relationship may well have filtered through to Umbridge by now and that this was not good for Tonks at all in the current climate; too many werewolves were joining Greyback, who was in league with Voldemort, and many more were just going missing.

"I know, it's just bloody hard sometimes," she replied, chewing a piece of sandwich, "the old gargoyle just won't crawl back under her rock; we've all said we'd rather have a Dementor or two in the office – they'd suck less atmosphere out the room than she does," she said angrily and Remus huffed sympathetically, suppressing a grin at her unintentionally amusing references to Umbridge, although he knew she was already biased to begin with. There was silence for a moment while Tonks bit into her sandwich again. After she had swallowed she asked, with concern showing on her face,

"What about you? How have you been today?"

"Oh fine thanks, I haven't really had all that much to do – just had to nip to Grimmauld for a while to do a bit of work for the Order and then I looked through the newspapers for anything of use," he said heavily, it was weird in Number 12 without Sirius there and he always dreaded going back to the cold, empty house.

"Anything we can use?"

"Nope, not a Kneazle, so I just read for a bit after that,"

"Well at least you haven't had to bother yourself with anything too tiring today," she said in a happy tone, "you need to rest."

"Well it makes me feel guilty," he replied, "sitting around doing nothing while you run yourself ragged,"

"Well, ordinarily you work bloody hard for the Order and for the most part I enjoy my job," she answered, a slight tone of defiance in her voice, "but it's just this business of never knowing who you can trust even in your own department and that..._woman_ interfering that I haven't got any time for," she finished forcefully and accidentally took an overlarge bite of her sandwich. She began choking immediately and Remus, knowing that Tonks could turn even the most mundane situation into an injury-fraught experience, shuffled quickly towards her, prepared to help out when she somehow mercifully managed to swallow the offending morsel and stop coughing. She looked up sheepishly, dark eyes watering furiously.

"Nice one Tonks," she muttered to herself, dabbing her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, now fairly amused after ascertaining she wasn't going to choke and die. She nodded, eyes loosely shut, clearing her throat.

"Fine thanks," she replied, her voice scratchy. He chuckled and kissed each eyelid tenderly. They fell into a comfortable silence and then,

"Although, it comes to something when you entrust your day to day Dark Wizard Catching to someone who can't even eat a sandwich properly, doesn't it?" Remus teased, swerving the fist that came flying upwards towards his chin but not quite missing the pillow that found his face.

-/-/-

He let out a stream of whispered expletives that would never normally graze the very fringes of his mind, let alone his lips. The pain hadn't been this bad in a long while and although he knew it had a lot to do with the increasing scarceness of Wolfsbane he suspected the highly unwise, totally impromptu (although granted, hilariously funny) fight against an armed Metamorphmagus – albeit with a pillow – was mostly to blame here.

He gave in and removed the last of his clothes, adding them to the pile on the floor, praying he wouldn't tear them up later. He padded across the room whilst he still could, checking and checking again the lock on the door and the strength of the charms around it. This was only the third time he had been forced to transform in Tonks' flat. The conditions weren't ideal, by any stretch of the imagination. He had prepared the spare bedroom by removing the sparse furniture, shrinking each item and leaving them in the kitchen and at the last minute, using a weak, temporary engorgement charm on the room to make the floor space slightly bigger for the wolf.

The waiting, he had discovered, was the worst. Here, was the possibility for his worst nightmare to come true and while he had to sit and pass the time until his body was ripped apart his thoughts fell to everything that could possibly go wrong. One tiny slip up could have horrendous results and he knew it. He tried not to think of what he could physically do to her if the pitiful supply of Wolfsbane he _had_ procured this cycle wasn't enough to even grant him his human mind. He tried not to imagine her blood on his muzzle, his teeth, his fur. He tried not to imagine her body lying broken on the ground. But more than that, he tried not to imagine biting her and cursing her with the same affliction he suffered. Because he knew, beyond all doubt, that if he did commit the hideous crime, she would still love him all the same and that would be the worst of all.

He knew she wasn't stupid or weak or immature. Whilst many others seemed to be under this very illusion he had known from the moment he met her. Stupid, weak, immature women didn't make the Auror Office, Mad-Eye only let in the strong, brave and perceptive ones. But being an Auror didn't mean anything, not right now. Not even wizened Aurors like Mad-Eye or tall, looming ones like Kingsley could protect themselves against a werewolf when in a tiny flat such as Tonks'.

Worst of all was that Remus _knew_ he should leave. He could just Apparate to some forest on the outskirts of nowhere, where he could harm no one, least of all her. However, he had been heartily warned that even if he did survive a long, cold night in an unfamiliar forest with any number of other creatures around, he certainly _wouldn't_ survive the hexes she'd throw at him when he turned up on her doorstep the next morning. _No _way_ was she letting him transform anywhere but her own flat. _

For what he could sense would be the last time, he checked the engorgement charm, silencing charms which had been cast unbeknownst to Tonks (so she wouldn't hear his deafening, animalistic cries) and barricading charms were still holding. Then he crumpled, shaking to the floor as he felt the process beginning.

-/-/-

She kept putting her book down and walking to the window and back, then picking the book up before putting it down again to check the time. She must have read the same paragraph about seven times before giving up entirely and just sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees.

She wondered why she couldn't hear any noises; surely he couldn't manage to keep silent all this time. It was now gone two in the morning and the moon was in her element, high in the sky. It was bound to have started by now but the whole flat was completely and utterly silent, save for her own breathing and the sound of the dripping tap in the kitchen.

She decided she'd go to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, more to stretch her legs and occupy herself than out of desire for the drink when a sharp crack made her jump and bump into the coffee table. She paused and held her breath to listen. For a second all she could hear was the silence ringing in her ears after such an unexpected noise but then, there it was again, louder this time. It sounded rather disconcertingly like wood splintering.

He heart began thudding in her chest as some kind of sixth sense told her what it was. She began to inch towards the spare bedroom, curiosity telling her to go forward, sense screaming at her to run away.

She rounded a corner that led to her bathroom and the spare bedroom, very cautiously and timidly. She let out a muffled scream which mingled with the deafening sound of the door breaking apart – the thin plywood shattering easily.

No sooner had the door collapsed then Remus appeared. The lack of Wolfsbane had caused him to transform fully; he dwarfed her slight frame with ease as he moved on his hind legs, stooping to avoid banging his head on the ceiling. Wiry mid-brown fur covered the entirety of his body and when he turned his face Tonks gasped. _Those eyes._ They were unmistakeably _his_ eyes; such a light hazel they were almost golden, flecked as if with paint, with hues of light brown. Their eyes met for a brief second and she almost forgot to breath – _he was in there_. She knew with every inch of her body, mind and soul that whether the moon had robbed him of his humanity or not that this _was_ Remus Lupin.

However, someone had undoubtedly forgotten to tell _him_ that. He began advancing on her, his poise partly threatening but mostly he looked...curious. Every slow pace he made towards her, Tonks mimicked with a barely perceptible step backwards, as if they were dancing. If she could only reach the wand lying on the coffee table, she stood a good chance if he startled and attacked her. Why hadn't she picked it up? She had never been any good at wandless spells, not even summoning.

She was an Auror for Merlin's sake, having her wand with her should have been her first priority; all those years of Auror training when she would periodically jump out of her skin when Moody barked his trademark phrases; 'constant vigilance!', 'don't put your wand there girl!' and 'elementary wand conduct, no one bothers about that anymore!'. If he was one of those Muggle dolls she'd been given by her paternal grandmother one Christmas, the ones which spoke if you pressed their stomach, those would be his three pre-recorded phrases. And after three years of him repeating his mantras, she still apparently hadn't learnt anything. Not even to keep her mind solely on the issue at hand, as she had somehow utterly distracted herself from the werewolf-shaped problem literally right in front of her with silly thoughts of trivial Muggle toys that had no real function whatsoever.

Remus was right in front of her now but, and her heart gave a jolt as she realised this, he was just staring at her. He had stooped down so that their gazes could align themselves and his light eyes seemed to be joining with her dark ones, as if fused in _priori incantantum_. She sighed slightly and allowed herself to relax, not having realised just how much her body had tensed. The whole flat was silent except for the sound of their breathing – hers light and almost stifled, his more haggard and clearly audible. He seemed slightly perturbed, perhaps by her outward lack of terror but Aurors were first and foremost trained to maintain a poker face and suppress obvious body language. And she supposed she wasn't scared in the conventional sense. It was weird to feel terrified of the prospect that the werewolf in front of her might tear her limb from limb and yet still remain almost calm too.

But, this was Remus for Merlin's sake and despite the fact she knew it was ridiculous to claim that he would suddenly, miraculously recognize her and curl up like a tame dog, chin resting on her knee, it was impossible to fear something she was so convinced was truly human. Although this was no fairytale, of one thing she was totally sure – true monsters didn't have eyes of liquid gold, bright and lively as stardust. What was more, he hadn't attacked her yet. He was definitely curious. He breathed more deeply as if he was trying to taste the air and she prayed he might recognize her scent.

They were there for mere minutes but they moved like millennia and she knew time was running out. He was starting to fidget irritably, as if his curiosity was waning. He certainly wouldn't be willing to stand and stare like this until dawn, that was for sure. So, feeling almost suicidal, she lowered her gaze then her head entirely, showing him her neck – she knew she had to be submissive; at this present moment he was a werewolf, an animal and he needed to feel in charge. She slowly rotated her wrists so her palms were facing upwards and tried to surreptitiously morph slightly to make herself smaller. He kept his eyes fixed upon her as he began to pace around and, heart thudding like the drums of a tribal chorus, she whispered,

"Remus?" whilst trying to barely move her lips. But that was it. The spell was broken and the noise had caused her to become all too real, small and vulnerable to him. A rumbling growl built up in his throat. Tonks raised her head quickly enough to see his defensive position and his risen hackles, revealing huge, lethal teeth. Even the redeeming beauty of his eyes had been lost as they became angry and fearsome; monstrous.

She feinted backwards as he launched forward, his jaws inches from her shoulder. She ran towards the table where her wand lay, made a grab for it and tumbled forward; the frail thing mercifully clutched in her right hand. She was still dimly aware, despite the ringing in her ears and the pain jabbing at her side where she'd fallen that she didn't really want to hurt him, only defend herself and, although he was angry, he still wasn't fully attacking her – simply raging around the room, as if disorientated.

She tried an array of spells from stunning to minor injury charms such as the conjunctivitis curse and levitating charms to distract him, but nothing came close to working. By the time she had fallen a second time she was bleeding from numerous gashes that likely came from the thick claws that were attached to heavy, flailing paws but whose source may just as easily have been glistening, venomous teeth.

As despair began to seep into her she did the last thing she could think of. A second werewolf appeared in the room, pearly-white and translucent it distracted its brown-furred counterpart for the mere two seconds it took to glide urgently out the window and off into the bleak, cloudy night.

**

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A/N: Few, we got to the end...aaaand I know it's a cliffie, I'm sorry. It's just, what happens is, I get carried away, realise that if I write what I want I will literally have a 7,000 plus word chapter and people will just get angry at me and throw stuff, so I cut it off at the best point I could find and turned the next third of the writing into Chapter Two. This piece will make an appearance as soon as I'm done tweaking with it, that is, if people seem interested. But yeah, I do hope y'all enjoyed, I'm having fun writing this one and it's coming quite naturally, touch wood, so I'm hoping that comes through.

**Please drop a review to let me know how this chapter is, what you thought was good/terrible and what, if anything, you'd like to read next. Seriously, you would actually be making a poor 'A' Level Student's day if I can battle through a day at school, drive home through pouring rain and terrible school traffic (eventually – my car breaks down all the time) and then know I can read some feedback on my fanfics. Go on, help a student in need today – you know you want to =D! **


	2. Repercussions, Reprimands

**A/N: So here's Chapter 2, obviously. Quite a quick update, I think =P I hope you guys enjoyed Ch1 and that there weren't too many mistakes. This one's un-beta'd too. Thanks to the reviewers and everyone who's subscribed, I really could use some more concric on my writing style and stuff though, I'd really appreciate it if you could take two seconds to just drop me a comment or two. Thanks in advance, hope you enjoy Ch2!**

**Disclaimer: Still don't have millions of pounds and or an OBE, so I guess I haven't turned into be Rowling yet, so I'm still just borrowing for a while, until I get bored of playing of course...**

Chapter 2: Repercussions, Reprimands

He knew the moment he awoke that there was something seriously wrong. For one, he had never before woken up wherever he was currently sprawled out, this he knew without even opening his eyes. He was even more tired and pained than usual and there was at least one person in the rough vicinity that wasn't normally present post-transformation, his still tingling werewolf senses told him that. Worst of all there was a strange emotion clinging to his mind that he couldn't quite define. It felt like fear and guilt, doubt and worthlessness. It made his heart beat faster and his already mangled thoughts spin. He prised his eyelids open and struggled to sit up, realising he was in Tonks' living room and that this in itself was odd. He sat up fully and nearly collapsed again. The place was in ruins. Pieces of mahogany-tinted wood that were once tables, chairs, shelving, were now completely indistinguishable – reduced to mere splinters. The sole armchair lay in tatters, the dark fabric in ribbons. Odd pieces of bric-a-brac and fragile, sentimental ornaments were visible everywhere, mostly in pieces, all resembling shrapnel in a battle ground. Perhaps worst of all, Tonks' prized CD and vinyl collection (the only Muggle entertainment she ever used) had been totally decimated. Remus' mind, sluggish and tired though it was, first thought of how upset Tonks was going to be.

And that was when his mind jolted; when he finally woke up and the haze properly lifted. Where was Tonks? What had happened to _her_ whilst he was causing all this destruction? His mind felt as if it had been struck by lightning – if he'd managed to destroy solid furniture this completely then what in the name of Merlin had he ended up doing to her? His heart was beating off the Richter Scale by the time he'd heaved himself into a standing position and hurried straight to the bedroom they shared. She wasn't there, not that he had expected her to be. He didn't even know why he was bothering to search the flat.

"Dora?" he called his chest heaving with an amalgamation of terror and agony as he wrestled into a pair of trousers and a jumper (he didn't like wasting these blinding seconds but he couldn't exactly search for her bare naked). His body gave an almighty physical protest at how fast he was moving but right now, pain was the only good thing. Partly because he felt like he deserved such a punishment but mostly because it was the only thing that felt _real_. Without the screaming tension in his muscles and illusion that his bones were splintered he may have felt like this had to be a dream. All of it, a horrible dream. Surely if he only went to sleep for a moment he would wake properly with her naked form curled beside him. Surely he was caught in limbo right now – not quite asleep, not yet awake and all he needed to do was find an escape route, a way to dig himself out of the frantic panic and overwhelming guilt that was toppling over him like earth into a grave. Right now, he was suffocating.

"Dora!" he cried again, this time louder, as he tore through the flat, part of him wanting to find her there, part of him dreading seeing her lying on the floor; her perfect body mangled. His eyes raked over the mess as he leapt over the remnants of the spare bedroom door, to find the room empty.

"She's okay," said a deep, soothing voice from the kitchen and Remus strode towards it urgently.

"Who's there?" he demanded as he burst into the room. It looked like the only place he hadn't bothered to savage last night. Sitting at the kitchen table was a tired looking Kingsley Shacklebolt and a pale Alastor Moody.

"Where is she?" Remus croaked, his voice breaking now, "what happened?"

"No!" Moody roared, banging his palm on the table and rising awkwardly, his wooden leg creaking slightly in a gesture that Remus vaguely remembered laughing over with Tonks at last week's Order meeting. "That's what _you_ need to tell _us_," he growled, pointing a scarred finger and Remus, to his utter shame, felt his cheeks colour and his eyes well.

"I...I don't know," he whispered. "I can't remember anything after checking the charms on the door and around the room."

"What charms did you have Remus?" Kingsley asked, more quietly and composedly than Moody.

"I had an engorgement to give me room to roam and then a silencing one so Nymphadora couldn't hear me transforming and about three different barricading charms so I couldn't...so I couldn't...so I didn't..." he tried but it was no good, his voice had cracked. Right now only Tonks mattered and he only wanted to know that she was ok, but Moody was speaking again and he couldn't bring himself to interrupt him.

"Well laddy, the question remains why the _hell_ did they fail to work?" he cried,

"I...I don't know...I'd checked them so many times, I cast them every time I transform indoors, no matter where that is...and they've never failed me before..."

"Did you do anything different this time, anything wrong?" he shouted, waving his hands in the air,

"Nothing!" Remus replied and he was shouting now too. Didn't Moody realise that he just needed to know he hadn't seriously hurt her...or worse? "Only that I checked it more! I've been checking them more ever since I've been transforming here!" he stopped, to catch his laboured breath and when he surveyed their faces he realised that they had not known he was transforming here. "I...I...she said she'd tell you!" How could they have let this happen? She should have at least told Moody and Remus himself shouldn't have been here in the first place.

"Well she didn't!" Moody was beside himself at this point, Remus had never seen him lose control like this before and he knew that Tonks meant a lot to him – he was as proud of her as if she were his daughter.

Kingsley rose so he too was standing and moved in front of Moody so that he formed a barrier between them. "But Remus didn't know that, Mad-eye. That's not his fault. None of this is," he said slowly and reasonably and Remus began to protest. That wasn't true; it was _entirely_ his fault. Kingsley cut him off however with a singular look.

"For Merlin's sake!" he said, "all I care about is _her_. Just tell me please, where is she? Is she...alive?" he asked, his eyes roaming Kingsley's face, begging him to talk.

"As I said before Remus, she's basically fine. The Healers hadn't finished treating her when we left but one came out to see Ted and Andromeda to tell her that she was going to live and that her injuries weren't as serious as we all first feared. As it was, we only left because she wouldn't let them treat her until someone had promised to go and make sure _you_ were alright," Kingsley explained, a note of amusement in his voice at Tonks' stubbornness, despite the severity of the situation.

Remus' ears were ringing. '_Healers'. 'Ted and Andromeda'. 'She was going to live'. 'Go and make sure you were alright'._ So she had been taken to St. Mungo's – it was that bad at least. What were Ted and Andromeda going to say? They hadn't exactly been jumping for joy when they had heard about their relationship. What parents would be? Their daughter was involved with a werewolf who happened to be thirteen years her senior; no-one wanted that for their daughter, especially right after she had qualified as an Auror. He didn't think he could even look at them again, much less _her_. Worse than that, she was still asking after him. She should be terrified. She should _hate _him.

Meanwhile, as he had zoned out, Kingsley and Moody were murmuring to each other.

"They'll whisk him away before you can say 'house-elves' if we admit him..." Moody said in a barely audible tone; a complete contrast to the last time he had spoken,

"I _know_ but did you see his back, Mad-eye?" Kingsley countered. "I don't think he's even noticed it yet if that's even possible, but we can't let it go untreated." Remus realised they were talking about him and he experimentally tautened the muscles around his back and shoulders. He gasped as his skin screeched in protest. He hadn't even noticed the blood he had left on the floor or the wetness clinging to his jumper and his mind couldn't comprehend how you could miss something like that – he felt as if he'd been unconscious for months and had missed out on all that been happening.

"Remus, we're going to have to take you to St. Mungo's," Kingsley said gently and Remus allowed himself to be led numbly out of the flat by the two men so that they could Apparate to the hospital.

-/-/-

"All right, Mr. Lupin, you're free to go now," smiled the chipper, ruddy faced women. Well, she was more of a girl, really – she couldn't be older than 19. He knew he was being unnecessarily morbid but he couldn't help but wonder how many people she'd seen die, even at her young age. He eased himself off the thin, hard bed – the mattress insubstantial and the sheets a scratchy, gleaming, clinical white.

"Thank-you," he said trying to sound as grateful as he truly was for all her trouble despite the heavy pressure looping its way around his chest that had nothing to do with his recently healed injuries.

"No problem at all," she chirped, straightening her robes – their mint green colour combined with the large darker green badge that read _'H.i.T.'_ proclaiming she was still a Healer-in-Training, allowed to treat certain patients in her final year before passing through the system. "You should be feeling as right as rain in no time at all," she added as she drew the curtains open, allowing him to pass. He spotted Kingsley, who indicated he should follow him as he turned and walked off. Remus caught him up and allowed himself to be lead in silence through the labyrinth of wards, side rooms and cubicles, barely noticing the white robed Healers hurrying around, the patients in their pyjamas or cotton hospital gowns roaming around to stretch their legs or even the plain clothed friends and relatives who looked as ill at ease here as he felt. Hospitals had that effect on everyone. Remus suspected it was the smell. After it seemed as though they had traversed the entirety of the First Floor of St. Mungo's (Creature-Induced Injuries) and seen the entirety of the "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn Ward, they stopped eventually outside a plain teak door with no window. It bore a lacquered plaque that read _'Private Room, no. 32'_.

"Right, I'll go and tell them you're here," Kingsley said bracingly and walked in, closing the door behind him. There was a whisper of movement within and Mad-eye shuffled out, followed by Ted and Andromeda Tonks ashen-faced but grim looking; their jaws set. Andromeda's eyes were red and swollen and she clutched a screwed up tissue in her white-knuckled hand. Ted had his arm around her protectively, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her shoulder, the way Remus would move his thumb over Tonks' hand whenever they linked fingers.

"Please don't wait out here on my account," Remus mumbled, unable to raise his eyes to their faces.

"Oh, _I _hadn't intended to," Andromeda replied, her voice strained. "Nymphadora wants the two of you to speak in private," she finished tersely. Kingsley flashed him a brief _'don't think on it too much'_ look and, gulping in deep breaths, Remus pushed the door open and walked in.

He felt like he was journeying into the room in slow motion. He felt every single aching second in how he deliberately twisted his body when he shut the door, in how he fumbled with a loose thread in his jumper and how he was desperately trying to find smears or stains of interest on his battered shoes all to put off the inevitable. The four pace journey felt like it was taking forever and he knew she would have noticed by now that he was deliberately not looking at her. He dimly knew that she deserved for him to be a man and look her in the eye. Gradually, he raised his gaze until he was staring at her. The first thing he noticed, and he was wholly ashamed of it, was that she was sitting up. He drank in the relief that washed over him when he saw that she was capable of movement and supporting herself. The standard blue-grey blanket that covered the sheets on the bed was pulled halfway up her stomach and she was wearing a long sleeved hospital gown – no injuries were visible save for one thread-like, meandering cut that crossed over her pale cheek, as a river inches over hills and mountains. She looked at him for a moment, her face unreadable as she scanned his own for signs of emotion and then her mouth split into a wide, beaming smile that showed off perfect white teeth and was so utterly Tonks it made his heart flutter with a tiny hope that they could carry on as normal after this. But he knew that that tiny movement was as useless as an injured butterfly trying to fly with only one wing, the other flapping feebly at its side – he was so wrong for her.

"Remus!" she smiled as he perched and extended her arms towards him, showing no signs of discomfort whatsoever. But he knew her better. He leant forward to loosely wrap his arms around her but without hesitation she launched herself forward and wound her arms tightly around him, burying her face into the crook of his arm. "I was so worried about you!" she cried, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. He stiffened slightly.

"_You_ were worried about _me_?" he replied, disbelieving. "I could have killed you,"

"No. You couldn't have," she answered vehemently, her face set.

"'Dora, look where you are," he muttered softly but pointedly. "You're in hospital because of _me_ and I don't remember a thing about last night because I wasn't myself. I was the least human I've been in a long time."

"You don't remember anything?" she whispered, pulling her face away to look him in the eye. She sounded half relieved, half tentative.

"No. I just woke up this morning with the flat in that state," his voice cracked as he thought of what he done to all her possessions.

"Well, that doesn't matter," she murmured, cupping his face in her hands. "We can fix most of it and the stuff we can't probably needed to be replaced anyway. Maybe we could move out altogether and find a nicer place, that flat really is a bit poky,"

"We haven't got the money to do that 'Dora," he answered, staring at his fingers as he twined them round each other.

"Well, we'd manage. So long as we've got each other," she added forcefully as if she had anticipated his guilt and was compelling him to look her in the eye. A note in her voice hinted to Remus that she had a suspicion as to what was coming.

"Nymphadora..." Remus began but was cut off as a Healer walked in. He was scanning pieces of paper on a clipboard and hadn't noticed Remus.

"Well, Miss Tonks I've got your test results and..." he paused as he finally noticed Remus. "I don't believe we've met, I'm Healer Bishop," he said, extending his hand. Remus shook it and introduced himself, noting the narrowing of the Healer's eyes as he put two and two together.

"Yes, well, was I was saying Miss Tonks, I have your test results and am glad to confirm that no contamination could be found. That is to say, all of your injuries are likely to have been sustained solely from...ah... claws as the, err..." he trailed off, apparently unsure of what to call Remus, "_attacker,_ presumably aimed for things around you and merely...caught you in the crossfire." Something in Healer Bishop's voice told Remus that he did not perceive things to be nearly as simple and innocent as that but he could find no medical evidence to the contrary. "Therefore, during the attack you were never bitten and henceforth carry no risk of becoming a werewolf yourself," he concluded in an almost bored fashion now that any accusatory sentences had been already spoken.

"So I can go home?" Tonks asked in a hopeful voice.

"Well we need to discuss treatment and after-effects of the cuts you _did_ sustain but after that, yes, there is no reason for you to stay. Someone will be in shortly," he finished as he walked out, acknowledging Tonks' smile and expression of gratitude with an inclination of his head.

As soon as the door had shut Tonks' face contorted into an expression of the deepest distaste, as though she was being exposed to a particularly nasty smell.

"Obnoxious bastard," she muttered darkly, "who in the name of Merlin does he think he is?"

"He treated you, 'Dora," Remus replied soothingly, "he might have saved your life."

"Yeah and he was a right judgemental sod the whole time!" she cried.

"'Dora, look," he began and in the nanosecond he had taken to pause she had seized her opportunity and began chattering about how she didn't need any treatment tips for the cuts and scars because the moment she was home she could just morph them away, and really, if that wasn't the point of being a Metamorphmagus, then what was?

"We need to talk," he continued, as if she'd never spoken. "I said when I first moved into your flat that I was wrong for you, not least because I'm too dangerous and this has just proved it, I think it'd be in your best interests if I just..."

"If you just what?" she interjected loudly. "I have never, ever been scared of you and I never will be, this hasn't changed anything, I still love you just the same," she said earnestly, her dark eyes beseeching him. He opened his mouth to protest (albeit without much energy and conviction) but was interrupted a second time by the door opening and closing. This time expecting a junior Healer he didn't bother to turn around and henceforth got the shock of his life at the sound that came from behind and somewhat beneath him.

"_Hem hem_," came the faked, feminine cough. "Excuse me, I do hope I'm not interrupting anything here," simpered a high pitched voice that Remus knew all too well. He whirled around and saw the short, stumpy figure of Dolores Umbridge. "Only, ever since news of this unfortunate incident trickled down to us at the Ministry I've had my people looking for you," she said, straightening her hideous pink cardigan. "Since they all seem utterly incapable of finding _anything_ I thought I ought to look for you myself." Out of the corner of his eye Remus saw Tonks opening her mouth and thought he had better speak first, not least because if Umbridge had come in person then this had to be very serious.

"What can I do for you Madam Undersecretary?" he asked politely and Tonks gaped at him.

"You must accompany me to the Ministry at once," she answered pleasantly, as if she was recommending a book he really should read or a particularly pleasing coffee shop.

"Why?" Tonks blurted loudly, her eyebrows merging into one, such was the intensity of the frown she wore.

"Well I would have thought that would have been obvious, Miss. Tonks," came the condescending reply.

"Well obviously not or I wouldn't have wasted my breath asking you," she bit back and the acid in her voice could have burnt a hole in the white-tiled floor.

"You didn't expect this unfortunate..._incident_ to go unrecognised did you? No, no, no the Ministry _must_ take action and if Mr. Lupin knows what's good for him he'll come without a fuss, otherwise he'll be arrested too – a junior member of our Auror department has been attacked and we must rectify this," she answered smugly and Remus' heart began thudding. The Ministry trials for any werewolves whose transformations had gone awry were notorious. What exactly they were notorious _for_ he was not sure. He rose dejectedly and felt Tonks grab his hand.

"Where are you going? Stay here! They can't make you do this, I was the one who was attacked and I don't want ...!" she cried and Umbridge opened her mouth to reply, but Remus saved her the job, cutting her off mid sentence.

"Yes they can, it's best if I just go."

"Well, wait for me then, I'm not letting you go alone," she retorted his, tilting her chin and preparing to get out of the bed.

"No, finish your treatment, then come and meet me, it's more than likely that I'll be there most of the day,"

A small exchange of words followed but in the end Remus found himself trailing after a smiling Umbridge whilst Tonks looked forlornly on from her hospital bed.

-/-/-

It was dark by the time he staggered into the flat. He was shocked to find that the whole place had been put together with no signs of the havoc that had been wreaked there the previous night. He paused and caught his breath, supporting himself on the doorframe.

All of a sudden a dark shape came hurtling through the unlit room and crashed into him in a tangle of limbs. The breath was knocked out of him and his ribs gave a stab of protest. Since walking out of the side room at St Mungo's and arriving at the Ministry, he had been shunted between departments and offices, although, after a brief _sejour_ in The Department of Magical Accidents, he had spent most of his time in dark, damp back rooms of the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He had had his body tested in ways that caused pain he had never thought imaginable, or survivable. He had once before been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse and he could safely say that the two were not that different. He had been under the Body Bind Curse while two masked men silently cast spells he didn't understand over him and poured unknown, scalding hot potions down his throat whilst he imagined he was writhing in pain and screaming, when in reality he was lying motionless on a cold chair, as helpless as a blind puppy.

And then came the ultimate treat for him. After all of that pain and humiliation, when he could barely stand he was forced to do exactly that in front of a 'small' section of the Wizengamot while they decided futile things such as _'was the incident truly an accident?' 'How was such a thing allowed to happen in the first place?' _and _'How could they 'help' him to undergo safer transformations in order to prevent such an incident reoccurring?'_ the latter of which simply meant locking him up in a side cell in Azkaban once a month, which he vehemently refused. Of course, they heartily suggested the best thing for him would be to isolate himself from all possible windows of trouble; the main suggestion being _'a swift, but sensitive and relatively emotionally painless cessation of romantic relations between the accused and one Nymphadora Tonks.'_

That was the one proposal he intended to follow. He had to. It had gone further than _'too old, too poor, too dangerous'_ now, although he fully intended to stick by the old argument – tried and tested methods and all that. No, now, it was more about being a threat to her job and her livelihood; it was about knowing that while the bigots were fighting this war, he had to concede defeat; even if that was just for a while, but he knew it was no use explaining that. It was better if he just went for a while. He needed some thinking space.

Tonks had obviously heard the small sound he made in the back of his throat when she embraced him, because she pulled away with a muttered apology.

"What happened Remus? I went straight to the Ministry and tried every department but no-one would tell me anything, not even when I tried to get anyone to divulge information to me as a Ministry-employed Auror. In the end, mum – who had refused to let me go alone – made me come home and I knew you'd be here eventually. What did they do to you? Oh Merlin, they haven't sent you...away have they?" she asked in a rushed voice, her words all but crashing into each other.

"No, I've not been sent to Azkaban, even the inquisitors in the Ministry couldn't pretend it wasn't an accident. But it's best if you pretend my incarceration was, in fact, the outcome of today," he replied as he brushed past her towards the bedroom, trying his utmost to act cold and detached.

"What are you talking about, what happened to you today?" she replied, hot on his heels. He did his best to ignore her eyes boring into his back and the small hand on his arm. "Remus, talk to me. What on earth happened, what did they do to you?"

**A/N: Another cliffie, sorry. It won't happen again for a while if all goes to plan, it's just another case of splitting up one looong chapter into sections that are a bit more manageable. **

**Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed – please please please get back to me, I really feel I need some concric and some improvement but I'm not sure how to tackle it.**

**Thank you in advance and hopefully see you in Chapter Three**


	3. Two Evils, None the Lesser

**A/N: Hello again, I'm back =). I hope people are enjoying the story so far. Not much to say, thanks to everyone who's reviewed, I really hope to get some more feedback. Just to warn everyone, this is the unavoidable scene in most R/T fics. I tried to do it justice and make it my own but it's been done so many times now, it's a bit problematic. Hope it's okay anyway, please r&r. Also the lyrics are from the song 'The Long Goodbye' and, although it's a bit of a cheesy song, it's where I get the inspiration for any break ups or sad moments in relationships in my writing as I think the lyrics sum up the feelings perfectly. **

**Also, please note that even though the summary has changed, the story hasn't. I just wasn't happy with the old summary and have been playing round with a new one for a while. Don't you just hate cramming your story into just 255 characters!**

**Disclaimer: Still just borrowing J.K. Rowling's wonderful characters, I'm not making any money from this...**

Chapter 3: Two Evils, None the Lesser

He wasn't sure how to tell her what had happened. It had been the most harrowing twenty-four hours of his life and he had (somehow) lived through the First Wizarding War. Even though he had nearly killed her, the instinct to protect her was embedded into his flesh, as if he had been writing lines with one of Umbridge's quills:

_'I must protect Nymphadora Tonks, because I love her – and that is all that matters.'_

A pang hit him square in his ribs as he thought about how much he really did love her. But it didn't matter, he wouldn't be selfish anymore – he didn't have the choice to be, it was out of his hands.

He came to a halt in the middle of the room and allowed her to circle him until they were face-to-face, although not level – he was much taller and broader than her slight frame; her forehead always came in line with his mouth, perfect for resting his chin on her head when they embraced. He could kiss the soft skin on her forehead and breathe in the scent of her hair; it always smelt of something he couldn't quite define. It smelt of home by now – it was the last thing that engulfed him when he fell asleep beside her and the first thing he remembered of each day when he woke up.

"Remus," she whispered. "Please, let me in,"

He let his gaze rake across her, her posture was defensive, her arms were crossed over her chest and her shoulders were squared. The way she stood conveyed no signs of pain and the cut on her face looked less dramatic and a lot smaller away from the cold light of the hospital room.

"I don't want you to have to hear it, it was bad enough that I went through it,"

"Not knowing is worse," she admitted, a familiar playful flicker darting behind her eyes. "I'll have nightmares," she said more teasingly than before, but Remus' expression did not change and this did not escape her notice. "Seriously Remus, I can't take not knowing what they made you do."

"We went to the Ministry," he began, chewing on his bottom lip, "I had to sign consent forms for all the tests and so on, although I don't think any of them were truly necessary – they would have performed the tests on me with or without my consent," he confessed. "Then, after they'd left me to sit and worry, with no news about you or about was to happen to me, they collected me and took me..." he trailed off unhelpfully, wondering how to best approach the situation with honesty, without really telling her the truth.

"Yes," she prompted, pulling him by the hands to sit beside her on their bed. He fiddled with the quilt, letting the soft material glide between his weak, shaky fingers.

"They took me further into the department, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, that is," he explained, when she quirked a quizzical eyebrow at him. "Into a room that was as deep into the Beast division as possible, presumably so we wouldn't be walked in on or heard and, also, so that I couldn't escape if I tried. Not that I was going to – I had been firmly assured that if I chose to skip out on the 'Ministry-approved process' I would be deferred straight to Azkaban to 'neutralise the threat I pose,'" he said ashamedly.

Her dark eyes – so like Sirius' – had widened and were shining slightly as an utterly stricken expression took up residence on her pale face, which was even whiter than normal.

"You're not a threat to anyone, Remus," she whispered and the defiant look on his face was exactly as she had expected. She knew what he was going to try and do. She knew that he thought it was better for her if he left. She also knew without any skirting around the issue that she could have died when Remus' transformation got so badly out of hand. She wasn't stupid – she was well aware that she _should_ be scared; she knew most people would be and her mother had certainly spent most of the day flitting around her and telling her so. But no matter how much she tried to prove that she was at least a little afraid (just to show everyone, and herself, that she wasn't insane) there was not a single shred of terror in any sinew of her body. She supposed that that was what love was; something that could quash all other emotions without even breaking a sweat. When she looked at Remus she just couldn't see the wolf in him, she only saw the man that he was – both the front he wore when he looked the world in the eye, and the face he chose to look _her_ in the eye with, because they were ever so different.

"I mean it, Remus," she said defiantly, frowning up at him from her perch on the bed. "I'm _not_ scared."

"You should be," he answered seriously. "Others are, including the people who dealt with me today. They were repulsed by me, yes. But they were also angry and scared. And that's the kind of prejudice I deal with everyday – it's not new to me."

"And what, me loving you and treasuring you and seeing you for who you are _is_ new?" she demanded,

"Yes."

"Being new and different doesn't make me wrong and all the others right," she insisted quietly and was heartened by the slight nod of his head.

"It still doesn't mean that what's right can work out as it should if the circumstances aren't right. Even if I wasn't too dangerous, too poor, too worthless – I'm just too broken for you, Nymphadora. The Ministry have decided. You deserve a young, whole man who can treat you they way I _want_ to treat you,"

"I want to be treated the way you treat me,"

He frowned for a moment, trying to sort the words out in his head and make them make sense. He was tired. So, so tired that even just sitting up, having this argument was taking it out of him. He knew he had to leave, not just out of his own, usual motives. But because Umbridge had told him that if he wasn't out of Tonks' life within the month then she would see to it that she lost her job and he wasn't going to see her sacrifice her hard work and life's ambition just for him. He'd once heard a song crooned out of a Muggle radio:

_'They say if you love somebody then you should set them free...but it sure is hard to do...'_

How true that was. He had never loved anyone like he loved her – and that was enough to convince him to leave and let her live her own life. It would hurt him to be lonely without her, but the salve to the wounds would be that she would be safe and, eventually when she settled down, happy. And if they both got through the war, and the right side won, then who knew...

"Then, I am afraid you have set yourself an extremely unjust standard, Nymphadora,"

"Why must you talk about yourself like this all the time?" she questioned angrily, "I thought recently that it had seemed to come to an end, as though I had convinced you not to. I understand what happened today is hurting you," she linked her fingers over his. He didn't pull away, "but it happened _to_ me," she went on gently, "not to you. And I'm over it already and isn't that what matters?"

"I'm glad you seem to have forgiven me. But it is mercy I do not deserve. Yes, it did not happen _to_ me, but it happened _because_ of me. It makes my part worse – as taking me out of the equation destroys it, taking you out simply diminishes it. Today, I was subjected to the worst pain I have ever experienced and I have felt the wrath of Lucius Malfoy's Cruciatus Curse," he admitted and her eyes widened again. "But I didn't feel it unjust in anyway. On the contrary I saw it as my just desserts, my punishment so to speak. I hurt you, someone hurt me – incident avenged, over and done with. The slate's been wiped clean now."

He stood up suddenly and made towards the wardrobe they shared. She stood in front of him and simply shook her head, causing her short, bright pink ringlets to quiver.

"Don't you see that your parents hate me? They are disappointed in your choice and I can't say I blame them," he tried, thinking of anything that was a better excuse than 'I'm just doing what I've been told to do' or 'I'm just following orders' because they didn't make him want to leave enough. They weren't strong enough. He needed something concrete that would convince him, as well as her.

"Remus, you knew my mother before we got together. You know that only a select few can ever truly do something that does not genuinely disappoint her and that number truly is select because I'm her daughter and even I disappoint her on a daily basis. The clothes I wear, the friends I have, the job I chose and any boyfriend I have _ever_ had the courage to bring home because I didn't think he would run for the hills the moment she laid her steely glare upon him. You really think I'm going to let her sway my decision?"

"No," he answered and chuckled genuinely. "When do you ever let anyone else sway your decision?" he smiled affectionately down at her and tucked a stray curl behind her ear with disarmingly soft hands for someone you would expect to have calloused, rough fingers. Coerced by his touch into a sense of security she smiled at him, and allowed herself to think that she had done it – he was going to stay, he really was.

Then, he walked around her and continued on his pilgrimage to the wardrobe.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, a nervous tone in her voice.

"I'm leaving Nymphadora. Not only do _I _think it's best, so do the Ministry. You can do better than me – you need someone who'll treat you right; look after you in the way a partner should," he reiterated as he pulled his trusty suitcase down from on top of the wardrobe, patting the dust off the battered leather. How many times had he upped and left somewhere with it because of his condition? It was his last remaining friend, the one that always followed him when he fled like a coward – some Gryffindor he was. It didn't take him long to empty the contents of his one drawer into the trunk.

"But...but...you can't," she stammered, her voice breaking and tears springing to her eyes for the first time – she'd tried to convince him he could stay, and she'd failed. "I need you," she whispered honestly, it was the only thing she had left. She didn't want to seem needy, but it was the truth.

"That's not true, all this time I tried to tell myself that a part of you, no matter how tiny, _did_ need me, but the truth is that I'm the one who needs you and I can't be selfish like that anymore...I...I just _can't_," he spat, ignoring the small hands on his shoulders as he made his way to the front door. He wanted this to be a slow goodbye, with one last kiss and then another and another after he had told her how much he loved her and how much indecision there had been in his mind and how he thought she was the most beautiful women in the world and finally, that she could have any man she wanted, so she shouldn't be wasting her time on him, but if he did that she'd persuade him to stay awhile and talk. Then, he'd sit on the sofa and let her say her piece and he'd watch her cry and that would be it; he'd never leave. He needed this to be quick; like ripping off a plaster – the quicker he walked out of her life the quicker the red-raw skin would go down and the quicker she'd get over it.

"Do you love me?" she demanded just as his palm found the icy cold metal of the door handle. He paused. He could just lie. He could just shake his head. He could just leave. But she had to know – he owed her that much, at least.

"Yes," he answered firmly with as much honesty as one man – well, werewolf – could force into a single word, turning around to see her standing by the sofa, hugging her arms around herself, as if she was trying to keep from just crumbling away. She looked as though she believed him despite everything, but that that alone was what was knocking her down into little pieces. "And that's why I'm leaving," he went on, "I'm sorry 'Dora, I'm sorry for everything. If I could only have kept my transformations under control then we might have stood a chance, but what about next time? And the time after that? One day, I could kill you. And if it's between leaving you and killing you, then there's no competition. This way you can at least live a long, happy life."

"But, it won't be a happy one without you. Remus, please don't do this, you know it isn't right!" she cried, her voice overwrought with emotion. "You're killing me _by_ leaving!" she tried, thinking that if she could use his own words against him, then that would be enough. She didn't expect everything to just fall back into normality, but if she could persuade him to stay, even to sleep on the sofa for a while then she knew he would come round. She also knew that he himself was aware that any moment of weakness would break his resolve – that was why he was leaving straight away. She tried to fight against it, but it was as fruitless as trying to catch every drop of water in a rain shower or shield the snow from the rays of the sun.

"I'm sorry, this is just the way it was to be," he finished softly and turned away, his clammy fingers fumbling with the cruelly cold metal of the door handle.

He heard her badly-stifled sob as he pulled the door shut behind him and squeezed his eyes closed, immediately Apparating to the first place that came into his whirlpool mind; neither knowing nor caring where he materialised when he opened his eyes again. In fact, he wouldn't have cared all that much if they didn't reopen at all.

-/-/-

She knew he heard her cry as he walked away but she simply hadn't been able to hold her breath any longer, no matter how much she wanted to simply stop the choking gasps of air permeating her organs. She felt every emotion swirl into her simultaneously like wisps of smoke; she was calm to the point of wanting time itself to halt around her and yet she was so angry she felt she wanted – no, that was not certain enough – she _needed _to destroy her newly repaired possessions, to feel them break under the force of her hands. She just wanted him back; wanted to wake up tomorrow knowing he would be back there, with her. The desperation was one long, pulsing ache that crisscrossed her whole body, enhanced by the fact that things did not have to be this way.

Her feet carried her into their bedroom and it hit her that it was _her_ bedroom again now, no-one else's. She sat on the bed that had once seemed so close and cosy but now seemed impossibly huge and put her head in her hands, hot tears trickling between her fingers and down her nose, the tickling sensation mocking her. Impulsively, she jerked her head upwards, her heart thudding – she was certain he'd be there standing over her, a comforting smile on his face, ready to wipe her tears away and tell her that this was all some terrible mistake. But there was no-one there. She was in the cold, darkened room alone.

A small silhouette in the far corner caught her eye and, as it possessed no discernible shape, she had no idea what it could be. In a fit of indefinable emotion she leapt up and almost sauntered to the object. As she got closer it became more pronounced and eventually she realised it was a piece of clothing. She stooped to pick it up and realised it was an old woollen jumper in the deepest shade of blue – he must have forgotten to take it with him. She lifted it tentatively to her nose. Did she want it to smell of him so she'd never have to forget? Or did she want it to _not_ smell of him so she wouldn't have to remember forever?

The material was pleasantly rough against her face and the scent it carried was unmistakeably masculine and more so, it was unmistakeably him. She sat back down on the bed and struggled into the garment, gathering the folds of surplus wool that hung off her frame. She collapsed heavily onto the bed, suddenly exhausted and wrapped the extra material around her, salty tears dripping morosely onto the dark blue wool.

-/-/-

He opened his stinging eyes and found himself in a deserted alleyway which, upon further inspection, led into a wholly familiar cobbled street. He had unknowingly transported himself straight back to the little village of his childhood – the place where he had grown up. A small country village where everyone knew everyone else's name, his parents had moved here not long after he was bitten – they had wanted to live in a place in the country, where they could take him to transform in the open air, but safely away from all prying eyes.

The stretch of road he was standing in was the main high street, where people could buy a few groceries without having to drive, for it was more or less a community of Muggles, to the nearest town. It was pretty much deserted, due to the hour, as most houses were set a ways away from the high street and the most noise anywhere was from the tiny pub right on the corner of the street. As he currently had nowhere to stay, he thought he might as well go inside, sit by the fire that he knew would be alight, away from the late-Autumn air, and warm himself up with a drink, even if they didn't exactly serve Butterbeer in _The White Horse Pub_. He might even recognise a few faces inside, faces that might just stop him thinking of Nymphadora lying in bed awake, all alone in the flat they used to share.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I know that was a pretty depressing chapter, but it was a necessary one. Hope you...enjoyed it, if you can enjoy a R/T break up, please, please let me know what you thought. Hopefully Ch4 will be up soon.**

**Thanks in advance for any feedback...=D x**


	4. Is It Solitude If You're Not Alone?

**A/N: I'm sorry there was such a delay with this. Without broadcasting my whole life, I feel I should tell my readers that at the moment one of my family members is in hospital with a terminal illness with not very long left. So, I can't guarantee updates will be very regular for the next few weeks. I really hope you'll all understand if things don't get updated, edited or written as well as I can normally do. Please stick with me, your support means more now than ever and sorry for being a bit forward with the details on my life – I just think it's better to be honest about why your updates are crappy. I hope you enjoy this chapter though, as usual let me know your thoughts. WARNING: This is where the AU starts, so if you're not up for reading non-canon stuff, please don't say I didn't tell you.**

**Disclaimer: Owning Harry Potter would really brighten my life at the moment but, alas, my lack of literary prowess and fame are ongoing: these things are sent to test us.**

Chapter 4: Is It Solitude If You're Not Alone?

He cast a Shrinking Charm on his suitcase and, when it was small enough, tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, feeling something brush his fingers. Sheltering from the autumn wind in the doorway of the pub he pulled out a small, sturdy rectangle which, when unfolded, proved to be a picture of himself and Nymphadora. It was a magical photo and so they moved and smiled and laughed in a small loop. He planted a kiss on her temple; she grinned and returned it on his lips, before coyly burying her face in the crook of his neck, seemingly because of the shouted comment of whoever took the photo. Then, the little process began again. He couldn't remember who had been holding the camera or even where they had been, there were no distinguishing features behind them. He hadn't needed to take note of anyone else at the time – not when he had his arm around her. When she was in the room everything else disappeared. He felt the pinpricks of tears in his already tired eyes and carefully put the photo back in his pocket with all the tenderness of a mother handling a newborn baby.

He then ducked inside the pub, ready for a bracing pint of decent cider.

-/-/-

When he woke up the next morning he had forgotten where he was and why he was there. He had thought that he was in their bedroom with Tonks' head on his chest, natural, un-morphed brown ringlets tickling his skin. Then he had remembered everything and wished he could just fall back asleep and into blissful oblivion again. Instead he had crawled out of the bed which was, to his wakeful senses, a lot thinner, stiffer and more uncomfortable than the mattress in Tonks' flat.

When he showered in the dull bathroom he wished he could be transported back to the first time he had showered in her flat and she had crept in beside him, pulling his soaking wet body flush to hers. That first time had been a thrilling, terrifying whirlwind experience, out of the usual realms of experience of his past relationships – but after that it had become an infrequent ceremony, performed on the mornings that Tonks didn't have to work, but was awake in time to catch his morning ablutions: so a rather rare occurrence indeed.

He dressed in his least threadbare trousers and searched for his favourite navy blue jumper, but to no avail. In the end he opted for one in a rich maroon – a present from Tonks, her presence was everywhere and he felt it would be that way forever. He meandered down the stairs of the guest quarter of _The_ _White Horse _and into the bar area, ordering some breakfast with a barman he didn't recognise before slotting himself into a chair beside the most secluded table he could find.

He busied himself with a Muggle newspaper lying on the teak tabletop – it felt strange, but not altogether alien, to be reading a newspaper with stationary photographs within its pages and news stories whose armed robbers were balaclava-clad men with guns and knives. He smiled wryly to himself, thinking how easily magic could deal with those problems, but that the Ministry would not permit it.

He immersed himself for a short while with a story about an impending romantic scandal in the Muggle Royal Family which would inevitably bring shame upon the whole establishment with a cynical frown forming. If only the Muggles knew what was really going on. He flipped to a story that caught his interest – the unexplained deaths and disappearances of a family that lived not overly far from where he was staying. Three members of the Appleby family – Hebron, Adsila and Olwyn – had been found dead in their family home, with no visible signs of injury, poison or disease, there was no sign of any gas leaks in the house and the doors were all locked from the inside and no real cause of death could be found according to the coroner's report, Remus read. The police had tried to contact other Appleby family members, but none could be traced.

It was a sign of Death Eaters if ever Remus had seen one. True, there was no account of any Dark Mark sightings, but there didn't need to be – the three family members who had been found in the house had clearly been victims of the Avada Kedavra curse and Merlin only knew what kind of the torture the rest of the family could be undergoing, assuming that, in the worst case scenario, they had not been able to make it into hiding but had, in fact been kidnapped. He chewed his bottom lip, thinking that he would have to show this to the Order. He had to get in contact with Moody, Arthur or Dumbledore soon, to announce that he would not be present at any Order meetings for the foreseeable future, but that he would write with any news, as in this case. He was just mentally planning out his letter when a shout caught his attention.

"Remus?" someone cried and he glanced up, sandy fringe flicking into his face as he looked for the owner of the gravelly voice. "Remus Lupin?" someone questioned from behind him and he turned around to see a familiar face – someone he had once known when he was growing up in the area; Henry Newson had been a friend of his father's. He was a short, stout man, roughly the same age as Remus' father, his thin, light ginger-blonde hair was receding somewhat and his cheeks were round and rosy and he beamed down at Remus, his green eyes bright and shining. "Well, this is a blast from the past, I didn't think I'd be seeing you in here today!" he exclaimed happily. "But I'll bet you don't remember me, do you?"

Remus, although somewhat impressed that Henry remembered him after Merlin knew how many years, and glad that his old family friend was happy to see him back, rose somewhat begrudgingly to shake his hand and reassure him that he knew exactly who he was, due to the fact that he was rather hoping he could spend the day alone, sulking and being a self-pitying old fool, wishing he was near Tonks and throwing himself into Order work as a consequence.

"How are you, lad? Been up to much?" Henry smiled as Remus' breakfast arrived and he could do nothing but bid Henry sit down and fold his paper away, beginning to fabricate some life story that he no doubt would have to remember and stick by.

-/-/-

All in all, by the end of his first day back, Remus had concluded that he was going to take a while to get used to being greeted with a cheery wave and smile, rather than with fear, repulsion and suspicion. Especially to be greeted by those who were clueless of his affliction and genuinely wanted to enquire to his health, his life and whether he'd married and started a family yet.

The autumn weather had well and truly set in by now and as night fell, marking the end of the first full day of his partly self-inflicted isolation, although an onlooker would never realise how lonely he felt on the inside – one man had never had more friendly claps on the back and words of welcome than Remus had received today. He stretched lazily and checked his watch – its lethargic hands ticked faithfully despite their age and read a quarter to eight. _The White Horse_ was filling up and he was leaning disinterestedly with his elbows on the bar, talking here and there with Charlie the barman, the one who Remus remembered from his teen years (when he sneakily served pints to the sixteen year old Marauders) and one of the faces he had actually sought to see. He felt a sharp, bony elbow knock him on the arm, which caused him slosh the remainder of his drink on the polished wood of the bar. He turned round instinctively to find himself face to face with a man who looked to be in his late twenties. At first glance he reminded Remus of Sirius but, upon closer inspection had few of the Black family features that distinguished them so well. His eyes were lighter that Sirius' had been; they were more the shade of Nymphadora's, whose never quite mirrored her mother's sharp black eyes, no matter how she had morphed that day. The man's shaggy hair was not black like Sirius' but a soft, light brown, but nonetheless, his face was the same shape as Remus' old friend and he possessed the same, angular, chiselled features.

"Whoops, sorry mate," he apologised, "not much room in here," he added, tucking his elbows closer to his thin, lean body. Remus surveyed him for a second, thinking that there was something about him that was unusual, but could not pinpoint the source of the strange feeling buzzing around him, so gave up and smiled accommodatingly.

"No problem," he replied and nodded, casting a look around the little pub – there was barely room to swing a Kneazle.

The man glanced down at the bar and, on noticing what had been left of Remus' drink being wiped away by Charlie, insisted on buying Remus another to make it up to him.

"Don't worry about it, there was barely any left anyway," he said kindly, shaking his head as he knew full well he did not have the funds to extend the favour (how he was going to pay his room for long, he had no idea), but the stranger wouldn't hear of it and bought him one regardless of his protests.

"Thanks," Remus said, taking a sip.

"No worries, mate. My name's Elian Cato by the way." Elian extended his hand and Remus shook it warmly. "Are you new round here?" he asked and the Order of the Phoenix member in Remus knew that, despite Elian's jovial smile and good-natured introduction, he still had to be wary of people – they were living in a war after all.

"Yes," he lied, "I'm just passing through."

-/-/-

Remus began to feel glad in the next few days that he had lied to Elian Cato. It seemed that everywhere he went, he was followed. While eating, drinking or reading the newspapers in _The White Horse_ he would more often than not catch a glimpse of Cato out of the corner of his eye, this continued when he was pottering around the little shops on the high street, once even when he went for a walk in the nearby copse to try and clear his head and reacquaint himself with the place in which he had once transformed monthly. The yellow leaves danced around him as they fluttered down from the trees that were gradually giving up their beauty for another year. At first, he had scolded himself for being paranoid, but there was no denying that he was being followed and a bit of well placed stealth that Moody would have been proud of (ducking behind a large tree trunk) awarded Remus with a perfect, unhindered glimpse of Cato as he walked pass, flicking his long hair out of his face as a horse flicks its fringe, all the while scratching his head in puzzlement as he looked for the person he was meant to be following.

But there was someone who was following Remus around even more than Cato.

Nymphadora Tonks.

While he ate something or drank something a taste or a smell would remind him of a time shared with her, and every time he entered a shop he would see something she would no doubt delight in and would wish he had the gold to buy it for her – but then he would remember that his poverty didn't matter anymore. His lack of money was once again his burden and his alone. But most of all, he missed her in the colours of autumn. Somehow the colours just weren't right if she wasn't there to clash with them and even when she wasn't pink or purple or post-box red, she was still the most colourful person he had ever met. He remembered last winter when they had taken their first tentative steps over the new-fallen snow at Grimmauld Place, their first footprints on the garden's blank canvas a perfect imitation of their first wary steps into that thing called love, she had been wearing her hair a soft, feathery brown, but still carried her brightness in a turquoise scarf-and-glove-set (mis)matched artfully with a deep purple coat and a black and lime-green patterned bobble hat. Her cheeks were rosy thanks to the icy air and he knew that he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. That precedent went unbeaten for only a few short moments, however, when her perfect-toothed grin and subtle dimples were replaced with an utterly adorable look of shock and confusion when her black and green bobble hat became white with snow – he had always been a perfect shot, even at Hogwarts.

A small smile played on the corners of his lips as he recalled that particular snowball fight at Grimmauld, followed quickly by an admonishment of his sentimentality, followed by the awkward glance around the vicinity that came with the dawning realisation that one had been grinning like an idiot in public. Stifling a yawn that was no doubt caused by the comforting warmth of the fire in the hearth he rose, smiled at Charlie the barman and ducked up the stairs towards his first floor room; not usually one to get an early night he suspected the uneventful autumn days and constant thoughts about the recent events in his life had caused the drowsiness to settle in his sinews and he had been trying to sleep it off ever since he had arrived outside _The White Horse_.

Just as he began searching through his trunk to locate a clean set of pyjamas a small knock sounded on the thin wooden door. No one had called on Remus since he had taken up residence in the guest house at a reduced price on Charlie's insistence (repaying a favour from times long since gone), not any of his new-old friends and not even Charlie bothered to visit his room – they saw him often enough out and about. His heart set up a little thudding rhythm in his chest and, making sure his wand was clutched out of sight he pulled the door ajar to see...Elian Cato.

"Elian," Remus said, sounding commendably more surprised than he felt.

"Remus," Cato began, "can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah, okay...by all means," Remus said, unsure of who exactly Elian Cato was. He was worried about who he would turn out to be, as well. Remus tucked his wand as covertly as possible into his back pocket, thinking fleetingly of Moody telling Harry to be constantly vigilant and that 'better wizards than him had lost a buttock'. He and Tonks never had found out just who that was, he would simply have to hope his wand didn't ignite. Elian took a seat in the chair next to the bed and wound his hands together.

"What can I do for you?" Remus asked, as accommodatingly as possible.

Elian took a while, evidently trying to put words to what he wanted to say.

"I'm going to guess that it may not have come as much of a shock to you that I've been following you around," he said and Remus gave a small chuckle.

"I'm sorry to confirm your fears, Elian, but I had noticed once or twice," he smiled, warming slightly to him, but still wary. "Is there any particular reason you've been tailing me?" he asked softly, not wanting to sound accusatory, still a bit worried Death Eaters were about to spring out of the fireplace.

"Yes, you see I'm from a – how shall I put this? – a community, which has been termed 'Valhalla'. Not my choice," he grimaced slightly, narrowing his eyes before turning the expression into a smile, "I find it sounds rather presumptuous, but it's become popular," he continued cryptically and Remus tried to pretend he was following him.

"I know you think I'm a Death Eater," he said bluntly and Remus was shocked, he hadn't even decided for sure whether or not Elian was a Wizard and, reading this in Remus' eyes, Elian nodded his confirmation. "You see, in these Dark Times especially we need all the help we can get, I'm sure you'll understand that and the thing about 'Valhalla' is that people usually find us, not the other way round and that is why I'm not sure how to ask you this, without offending you – I know how it feels when people make assumptions." Remus tried to understand Elian as he spoke, but he still wasn't making any sense.

"Elian, I'm sorry, but I'm just not following you,"

"I know, it's just, I still don't know for sure that you are one, it's been a long time since I've met someone who's suppressed it so well, usually I'm great at picking us out,"

"Elian..." Remus began,

"'Valhalla's' a community for werewolves," he said suddenly, evidently throwing caution to the wind and just hoping to Merlin that Remus wouldn't turn out to be some Ministry official who happened to be a fanatical anti-werewolf legislator and half-breed persecutor.

But then, Elian's talk of 'suppressing it' became clearer to Remus. _'It' _was a sense of the presence of the wolf inside the human being and of course, _'it'_ was always there, no matter how far away the full moon was. However, _'it'_ could only really be detected by other werewolves, or by animals – things that were used to it. _'It'_ wasn't really an aura or a buzzing around their heads like in Wizard textbooks; it wasn't a physical entity, definitely not a stereotypical smell, aroma or pheromone. It was just a little feeling that told you that you were meeting a fellow werewolf, just another part being half-animal and one which some people were so good at suppressing they could live next door to a fellow werewolf their whole lives and their neighbour would never know that they were equals.

"I've heard about you through the 'war effort Tentacula-vine'," Elian went on, "when I heard people saying your name in the bar the other night I knew that, if you were willing to help us out, you'd be a great addition to 'Valhalla'," he said. "But there's no obligation – to anything," he added hastily, "I only ask that if you don't join us then you don't bring attention to our existence or headquarters. We get enough trouble from Greyback's lot as it is." At the mention of Greyback, Remus decided that anyone who was against Fenrir Greyback couldn't be too bad at all.

"What is 'Valhalla'?" Remus asked, "What do you do?"

Elian looked doubtful.

"It's difficult to explain, it's better if I show you," he said.

-\-\-

Remus kept his eyes fixed on the worn dirt track and his brain on every twist and turn they made. As they got deeper into the copse just outside the village, and as it became more of a forest than a copse, Remus knew it was very foolish to have agreed to follow the man he still knew only as 'Elian Cato' to a place termed 'Valhalla'. All the signs were there if only he had listened to them. He had his right hand fisted around his wand, ready to fight back if this really did turn out to be a Death Eater attack or a Ministry arrest.

The light from the moon, his bitter enemy, created dappled patterns on the ground as it peeped through the leaves of the trees and the forest played its symphony of animal sounds, tinkling water and the rushing of the breeze through the long grass.

The trees soon became sparser and sparser as they walked and the sight that eventually met Remus shocked him. What he saw was neither armed Death Eaters nor Fenrir Greyback himself, poised to attack. It wasn't the scene of a gruesome battle or his dearest friends in mortal danger. He saw only a cluster of beautiful wooden structures; wooden beams had obviously been slotted together with magic, so that a few simple but strong buildings formed what could only be described as a tiny, quaint cluster of log cabins.

"'Valhalla' headquarters," Elian announced proudly, his eyes shining. "We're a little bit of everything," he said with a smile. "We're a base for all the werewolves that are struggling with normal life, now that normal life consists of facing the Ministry's legislations and dodging ominous approaches from Fenrir Greyback to try and bully them into joining the Death Eaters. That is of course on top of the usual prejudices that come with the monthly transformation." Remus nodded slowly, as everything began to make a bit more sense. He had heard about places like these. Every werewolf who tried to set up as normal a life as possible had the same story, or thereabouts. They were bullied all their lives for something that wasn't their fault, they all fell in love but, one way or another, couldn't really stay with the one they loved – it was impossible. It was inevitable that birds of a feather would flock together, and especially during a war, which was a time when they actually had something to fight for and the means to battle for the cause.

"You know as well as I do that the people like Greyback are two thirds of the reason that _we_ feel the prejudice from people who make anti-werewolf legislation," Elian said with his jaw set and his eyes flashing angrily.

"So do people live here?" Remus, who was becoming more and more impressed, questioned after nodding his agreement.

"Yes," Elian answered. "We never wanted to resort to living in the forest, this was originally just here as a safe place to transform, to not be a danger to others and a place to hide Wolfsbane, but as people are being kicked out of their homes, and they can't buy new accommodation with the little money they have, we've had to resort to making this into home for some people now."

Remus nodded, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. He was already considering 'Valhalla' even though it was something he would normally avoid like spattergroit. Only, since he'd left the Order he'd been a loss as to how to make a difference in the war effort and he thought he may just have found his answer.

"Living in the forest, like some pack of dogs isn't what I wanted, but unlike Greyback and those like him I like to think we're at least organised and dignified, we don't sleep open to the elements in caves or clearings, we don't go hunting for raw meat like animals, we live in strong, sturdy houses and we have a democratic system. I ensure that we keep Wolfsbane in constant supply one way or another, through various acquaintances and we're not all even Witches and Wizards; some people here are squibs and many are Muggles who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Elian's eyes were shining again and Remus saw his anger at the way werewolves were being treated. It was a similar anger that he bound up in a tight little corner of his body and never let out. It was also a similar anger he had seen Nymphadora fight with since he had known her; she had felt powerfully about the plight of people like Remus, and like Elian.

"Listen, Remus," Elian said, with a note of finality in his voice, "we've begun to make a war effort too; we track Greyback's packs' plans and try and intervene as much as we can, in whatever form – human or otherwise – we have to. We all know that we can't just sit and wait until someone else helps us dispel this image we have, while we just moan about our misfortune. Maybe if people see us fighting, I dunno, it might change their minds. Even a little change is an improvement and I know you have intelligence that might help us. I also know you're a damn good Wizard, you don't have to stay here as I know it's not for everyone and you don't have to physically fight against Greyback, but I'd appreciate any information and support you could give us and, in any case, I'm guessing you had to leave somewhere, and someone, pretty quickly so you're welcome to live here for as long as you need."

Remus was shocked and speechless, the whole evening had become a bit of a daze.

He explained this to Elian, who understood completely. As he turned his back on 'Valhalla' (for now anyway) and headed back to _The White Horse_ he decided not to Apparate, he could use the thinking time a long traipse through the forest offered. He wasn't sure if he wanted to join Elian's fight at all, or if he was ready at the moment after Nymphadora and everything else he had lost, he wasn't sure if he could handle another struggle right at the moment, and yet it almost felt like he was being offered a purpose again.

**

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**A/N: And so the AU begins! I hope it's not too weird and too sudden, I understand that Remus found the group pretty quickly but I didn't want to drag out any 'Remus moping at the pub' scenes for any longer than necessary. Mopey!Remus is just not my cup of tea. One chapter of that is ample for me. So yeah, I hope it was okay, I'm not all that confident about it, but I hope I get some feedback to let me know how bad/good it was, especially thoughts on the pack. I just think it feasible that if werewolves were fairly common and that a good proportion of them were good not bad and that if Remus went and spied on the bad groups then there might have been good ones too. I mean if all the werewolves are being persecuted and chucked out their homes I reckon they'd flock together and stick it to werewolves like Greyback that they're sick of being tarred with the same brush. Anyway grovelling justifications for the weird creations of my mind over, please let me know if you concur or not.**

**Also, apologies again for the delay and I hope you'll all understand that family illness is a huge draining force in your life, and writing and posting is something that has to get put on the side. I will be back as soon as I can.**

**Thanks all!**


	5. Front Line Isolation

**A/N: Hi everyone. Yep I'm back again. Firstly, can I thank everyone from the bottom of my heart, for the messages of support on the reviews I got. Your kindness and understanding meant more than I can express. Sadly, as much as the reviews helped me, they couldn't cure the sickness and my relative lost her battle with cancer on Tuesday. As a result please understand that for the next few weeks until things get a bit better and more normal I can't update regularly and that my writing is just going to be a bit under-par for a while.**

**This is the case with this chapter – I feel it could be improved but let me know how you find it.**

**As usual I have no beta so all the (what I perceive to be) numerous problems in this are my fault alone. **

**Just to say this now takes on the POV of Tonks. Hopefully every chapter or every few chapters it should switch, if all goes to plan.**

**Disclaimer: I haven't suddenly gained ownership but if ever J. K. Rowling does sell it, I'll be first in line at the auction. **

Chapter 5: Front Line Isolation

_Three Weeks Later_

She fought to catch her breath and settle the erratic drumming of her heart. She could all but feel the adrenaline being pumped around her veins as if someone had transfigured her blood away. A jet of red light burnt her ear with its heat and speed as it coursed past her, hitting the wall of Florean Fortescue's now derelict ice cream parlour and ricocheting off.

No one had expected this to come so soon. The Order had been preparing for some kind of public announcement that Voldemort was back to his full strength to accompany the carnage and havoc wreaked in the Department of Mysteries but even Dumbledore hadn't envisaged that the Death Eaters would strike this hard – they had all been caught unawares. And, if the Order of the Phoenix was shocked, it was nothing compared to the pale, set faces of the Ministry Aurors around her that weren't members of the Order and still believed all of Scrimgeour's bull.

To strike in Diagon Alley was unheard of. They were after Ollivander, of course, but that wasn't stopping them from killing anyone who happened to cross their path as they marched down the cobbled street, faces hidden, masks still in place.

She heard an unmistakeable cackle from somewhere ahead of her and her heart sped up even more, she hadn't expected to come face-to-face with her aunt again so soon. She couldn't help but think of Sirius and how if she had only been a little stronger and faster, he may never have died. She gripped her wand tighter and tensed her shoulders – Bellatrix wouldn't beat her a second time.

All around her, people were screaming, mothers were scooping up little children, too young to be at Hogwarts and trying to get them to safety. With a jolt, Tonks saw the frame of one who hadn't been so lucky. The sight spurned her on. She wasn't sure exactly what she was supposed to be doing, there was no Auror strategy in place – they had no plan for something like this. It was the first time Moody had let his staff, his protégés and, above all, his friends go out without a form of safeguard – all they knew was that they were to protect when someone needed it, especially Ollivander, and capture as many Death Eaters as possible. She had seen the look in Moody's remaining eye before they had been separated and she had known that he was scared. This had done nothing to encourage her.

_Ooof!_ A second later and she was lying, sprawled out flat on the ground, knowing that this fall was not a Nymphadora Special and was, in fact, the force of a either a stunning spell or a tripping jinx hitting her from behind. Scooping up her wand she turned around and came face to face with...someone. This Death Eater was, unsurprisingly, unwilling to show his or her face. Whoever they were, they were eager to kill her and move on, firing a Killing Curse at her without any hesitation. She ducked out of its way and, pointing her wand directly at the figure, began firing out curses.

"Impedimenta! Stupefy! Locomoter Mortis!"

The Death Eater blocked them all with ease and, taking a less Ministry-approved tack, hit her straight in the chest with the Cruciatus Curse. It wasn't the first time it had happened to her. In a way, she was prepared for it. In a way, nothing could prepare you for it. White hot needles dug into every inch of her body and seemed to be twisted into her flesh, sinking into her muscles and causing them to contract, embedding themselves into her bones and nervous system. She knew she was screaming, but that existence was a million miles away. That was, until it ended. Still reeling, she righted herself without any hesitation –she was trembling slightly but she could further acknowledge the lingering pain later, when she had survived the battle. Changing tack, she blocked more hexes fired at her and began using more inventive tactics – sometimes you just had to improvise and strike with spells your adversary wouldn't be expecting.

"Excelsiosempra!" she cried and watched, satisfied as her opponent was lifted off their feet by an invisible force and, in the brief moment it had taken the stunned and shocked Death Eater to register what exactly had happened, she had shouted out two more spells. The Aurors were under strict instruction to kill only when necessary – it wasn't out of compassion, more that anyone who was captured was needed for information later on. So as an alternative she used the full Body Bind curse on her unidentified opponent (_"Petrificus Totallus!"_) and shot magical cords ("_Incarcerous!"_) from her wand toensure that, if the Body Bind should wear off, the person would still be trapped. Scooping up the wand the Death Eater had dropped in battle she ran past, advancing forwards, her own wand poised to fight off any further attacks.

Just as she found herself drawing closer to Ollivander's wand shop she caught sight of Belltrix Lestrange – Death Eater mask proudly discarded – torturing a young mother who was trying to protect her two children in a small, dark alleyway – just out of real eyeshot. Only Tonks' heightened senses made her aware of their presence. Bellatrix had a twisted smile plastered on her pale, drawn face – her time in Azkaban still evident in the gaunt hollows of her cheeks and the demonic glint in her eye.

"Please," the young woman begged, "just let me send my children home – I just want them to be safe," she whispered. Bellatrix merely laughed and twisted her wand, shooting a jet of what looked like a cross between a beam of light and magical flames from her wand.

Glancing over her shoulder, Tonks saw an explosion coming from Ollivander's shop – she knew she should go inside and save him, but a look on the tear-streaked faces of the straw-haired boy and girl, cowering from their mother's cries of pain, told Tonks what she had to do. Pointing her wand at Bellatrix's she muttered spells as quietly as possible to give her as much of an advantage as possible.

"Finite Incantatum," she murmured and smiled slightly as the young witch's pain came to an end. Her cries subsided but she did not get up. Bellatrix shouted in frustration, looking around for the cause of her spell's demise. Tonks ducked behind a section of wall jutting out into the high street, wand clutched in hand. "Impedimenta," she whispered as Bellatrix prepared to return to her onslaught and the older witch stumbled and blinked confusedly. As the unstable spell wore off Bellatrix's expression changed to one of anger as she located Tonks, who was, by then, standing in plain view, her wand pointing at her Aunt.

"Nymphadora Tonks," Bellatrix whispered dangerously, approaching slowly. "My little half-blood, shapeshifting niece," she murmured, accentuating each few words with a step closer. "Think you're being all strong and protecting the innocent do you?"

Tonks nodded firmly, jaw set. "I'm doing the right thing, Bellatrix,"

"Aunty Bellatrix, shouldn't you say? Speaking of family relations, how's our cousin at the moment? Oh wait – he died because of the two of us, didn't he?"

Tonks felt her blood begin to simmer at the mention of Sirius' fate, but she kept herself in check. But Bellatrix was going to continue and Tonks needed to keep her concentration.

"And I hear that you couldn't even keep the werewolf, could you? He probably couldn't even bear to look you, knowing that it was your weakness that let his friend die," she laughed and Tonks went from simmering to boiling over in the blink of an eye. She forgot the Ministry instructions or, more accurately, she forgot to care about them.

"Avada Kedrava!" she cried and, for the first time in her life, felt the curse come to life and burst from her wand. Bellatrix ducked to avoid and tried to hit her niece with the _Cruciatus Curse._

"Protego Horribilis!" Tonks called back and Bellatrix's jet of red light was absorbed into the silvery barrier she cast. "Diffindo!" she tried and heard her aunt's hiss of pain and her severing charm hit, in some way, Tonks' intended target. Bellatrix continued firing hexes and advancing as Tonks fought back, she needed a few moments to halt her aunt and smiled to herself as she successfully bought the time she needed. "Procumbat!" she shouted and Bellatrix landed on the floor, the Tripping Jinx effective. She scrambled to right herself and collect her wand, which Tonks summoned before crying, "Expulso!" A beam of orange light hit the wall behind them, which exploded and crumbled into the space they occupied, missing the woman and her children as Tonks intended and trapping Bellatrix.

Tonks rushed to check the young witch was still breathing and, after asserting this fact, ushered her two children and levitated her lifeless into the nearest shop (Amanuensis Quills) which was, rather unsurprisingly, completely empty. There was a fireplace connected to the Floo Network in the back room, and Tonks, giving hurried instructions and well-wishes to the two terrified children scooped up a handful of Floo Powder, threw it into the fire and instructed it to take them to St. Mungo's. The young witch would be fine there, Tonks would check up on her progress later. But for now, she had to keep going and get to Ollivander's – that was what all the Aurors were supposed to be aiming for and, a moment's frantic running later, she was there. The door was hanging off its hinges and the window frames were all empty but inside all was quiet and even the sounds of the battle outside were muffled. Perhaps some of her colleagues had been and gone, taking old Ollivander with them. Or perhaps the Death Eaters had got there first. Dumbledore had already told the Order that this would happen sooner or later, but even there was not a lot they could have done to head of an onslaught this great – Tonks suspected that Voldemort (even thinking the name made her shudder but she knew she had to get over it) had mobilised every Death Eater he had.

The floorboards of the dark shop creaked underfoot as she moved as stealthily as she could manage to the back room of the shop, praying that other Aurors like Moody or Kingsley had beaten her there.

She froze as she heard a shuffling sound coming from her right. Glancing over, her heart gave a jolt as she saw a ragged looking Ollivander – even more ragged than usual anyway – frantically searching through the small boxes that contained his lovingly-crafted wands. He caught sight of her and she heard his breath hitch. His wide, pale eyes beseeched her and she nodded slightly, moving closer as he beckoned her with a sharp crook of his finger.

"Mr. Ollivander, my name's Nymphadora Tonks and..." she whispered but was cut off as he interrupted urgently.

"You're an Auror," he finished for her. "I know Miss Tonks, I remember selling you your wand; 13 inches, dragon heartstring and willow, if I'm not mistaken. I knew you would do great things with a wand like that," he whispered hastily, allowing a faint smile to play at his lips despite the situation he found himself in.

"Can you fill me in on what's happened to you?" Tonks whispered back, while he still searched his wands, occasionally taking some out of boxes. They both leaned into the shadows as much as possible.

"They came for information on the wands I sold to Tom Riddle and Harry Potter," he began, "I've told them nothing, of course, they can use the Cruciatus Curse as much as they want," he added hastily and defiantly and Tonks smiled bracingly at his courage. "They've taken my wand off me, they're still in the back room, I Confunded them before as best I could – it's one of my better spells, wandless anyway," he explained and Tonks nodded. "But the spell won't hold much longer, I'm trying to find another wand to match mine. Normally I could find a wand blindfolded, but I'm all sixes and sevens Miss Tonks," he gabbled and Tonks continued nodding understandingly.

"Mr. Ollivander you should have left as soon as you could, come on, let's go, I'll take you to Ministry you'll be safe there,"

"No, no, if I escaped, they'd come looking for me, and the innocent people out there would be in danger again," he said quietly and sadly. Tonks sighed. If only he knew what damage was being done regardless of the Death Eaters in the shop.

"My colleagues are on the case, they're fighting now," she assured him and his features brightened.

"Well in that case..." he hesitated.

"There's nothing more you can do, you've already done brilliantly," she assured him, beckoning him to follow her out the door.

"Well, I'll just take a few more before I go," he said and rushed around plucking more, seemingly random wands from the shelves. When he was finished they hurried out, Tonks leading the way, her own wand raised.

Just as they approached the doorway, the battered door slammed shut and Tonks heard sinister laughter behind her.

"Going somewhere, Ollivander?" a vaguely familiar voice sneered and Tonks' heart began hammering again.

"And I see you're taking a few things with you," another voice added and Tonks whirled around, she was obviously concealed by the figure of the old man. She knew she could run, but it wasn't even an option for her. She gripped her wand tighter and watched as wands began flying back out of Ollivander's pockets into the waiting hands of a Death Eater she recognised but could not name.

Then the familiar voice made a noise in the back of their throat and she realised that she had been seen.

"Tut tut, you seem to have invited a friend," Tonks recognised the speaker as Lucius Malfoy, a familiar face from the long-discontinued Black family soirées. He stared at Tonks for a moment before his face twisted savagely and he hit Ollivander square in the chest with the Cruciatus Curse. The old man was lifted off his feet and his screams filled the air, ringing hauntingly in Tonks' ears. "But you have to learn, old man, that this is _our_ private party," he twisted his wand and Ollivander's screams amplified for a second before the spell finished and he fell to the floor shaking. Malfoy turned his attention to Tonks.

He stepped closer so Tonks had a very close view of his cold, icy eyes and long, straight hair, unnaturally straight and blonde.

"I always liked you," he whispered, "your name's Nymphadora, isn't it?" he asked and waited for her to answer. He may have towered over her small frame but her fists clenched in preparation for a fight.

"You can't have liked me that much," she growled, "if you can't even remember a name like mine."

He laughed for a second then –

"Crucio!"

"Protego!"

Malfoy's spell bounced away from her and the duel began. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other two Death Eaters advance on Ollivander. They dragged him out of sight, grinning and a moment later Tonks heard his screams begin again. Distracted for a moment she too was hit by the Cruciatus Curse for the second time; more prepared now. After the spell's effects subsided, she remained on the floor for a second, before firing a spell at Malfoy from the floor, her fear and anger rendered her magic more potent and uncontrollable than she expected and her uncle and his limp body went careering through the window. She bit back a laugh and, running on adrenaline, advanced to the back room, which she found to be damp, musty and poorly lit.

The two Death Eaters looked up as she entered. They both rose from where they had been crouched over Ollivander's limp body and the bigger, broader one made his way closer. He looked her over laughed as she raised her wand and inclined her head to indicate she was ready to duel. Nonetheless he copied her actions and just as she was about to shout out a spell the second man made his way over and looked as though he would duel her too. Her original opponent, however, stuck out his free arm and shook his head.

"No, no Dolohov, we must be fair. We're duelling a lady now," he mocked, "there must be etiquette and manners. When she has finished me off" – the two sneered – "then you may have your chance. Fenrir Greyback is nothing if not a gentleman...sorry, gentlewolf."

The words hit her worse than either of the Cruciatus' Curses had.

_Fenrir Greyback._

_Remus. _

Tonks snarled and fired a curse. She fought to kill.

-/-/-

"Thank-you." Tonks shook her head for the thousandth time, smiling wearily.

"It was nothing, I was only doing my job,"

She had taken Ollivander to St. Mungo's following the fight in his back room. Tonks had given Greyback as much as she could, before the two of them looked at each other and Apparated away. As Tonks had lifted Ollivander's limp body she could see that outside the fighting had ended – Voldemort had called a retreat.

When he came around he thanked her ceaselessly and she had been grateful when the Healer had told her he needed to rest and that she had to leave.

On her way out, she went on search of the witch that had been attacked by Bellatrix. In the end she had found her and called in to ask how she was and had again received unbefitting gratitude and after each 'thank-you' she had said that she was only doing her job, keen to leave.

When she finally got back to the Ministry, she was fit to drop. She walked through the door to the Auror Office to get her coat so she could go home and have a nice, hot bath and go to bed. Not that she would sleep. She hadn't slept since she'd been lying in bed alone. She resolved to buy a sleeping potion on her way home. After today, she knew she needed to rest.

However, as she stepped into the office she thought she was back in Diagon Alley again as a wall of sound erupted around her. She soon realised though, that all her colleagues were stood around her, applauding. She felt her cheeks colour at this sudden attention but she couldn't even morph her hair anymore so getting rid of the red stains on her cheeks and the back of her neck was out of the question.

"Tonks," Kingsley roared and clapped her on the back, nearly knocking her over.

Dawlish congratulated her with a strong hand on her shoulder and a few words in her ear, while both Proudfoot and Savage shook her hand warmly and gave her a loose embrace.

Moody approached her, a large gash across his forehead and his limp even more pronounced that usual, but a look of utter pride all over his gnarled face.

"Only one not to be incapacitated, last on in the Alley, took down the most Death Eaters and got Ollivander to safety, you can't ask for more than that Scrimgeour," he bellowed and, in much the same vain as Kinglsey, slammed a fist into her back, winding her.

As politely as possible Tonks graciously accepted congratulations before excusing herself, saying she wanted to rest but would be in bright and early tomorrow to do the paperwork. Even Scrimgeour didn't protest and she ducked out, thinking that she would have gladly gone without every friendly embrace if she only knew she would go home and feel Remus put his arms around her and tell her that he'd been going mad with worry, was proud of her and delighted she was safe. But she knew that he had forgotten her and sighed.

Just as she was about to Apparate home Kingsley appeared behind her and she noticed, for the first time, the huge gash on the side of his neck – Tonks realised that if it hadn't been healed by now then it was a cursed wound and would never disappear.

"See you later Tonks," he said knowingly before heading back to the office.

_Oh bugger._

The sleep would have to go on hold. There was an Order meeting tonight. This would be the fifth one to which she would turn up alone.

-/-/-

Word of the battle had got round and if the Auror's reactions were rapturous then the Order's was positively tumultuous. Tonks highly suspected that her role had been enhanced by rumour and poor event-recounting on the Aurors' parts. Either way, she shrugged off the compliments as graciously as possible and the meeting passed in a groggy, uneventful haze. She had nothing to report as she hadn't been on any missions recently and it seemed that no one had any notable news. Nonetheless, Snape managed to fill his slot with his meaningless drone about his 'oh-so-important' role within the Order playing double agent. If Tonks were Dumbledore she'd be questioning how he could stick his greasy nose into the other camp and withdraw it with literally no useful information every time.

"Oh I almost forgot!" Dumbledore exclaimed with a clap of his hands as everyone began to rise. "I've had another letter from our – ah – our messenger."

Everyone began to grumble a bit, despite the fact that this 'messenger' that Tonks knew nothing about (maybe if she'd paid attention these last few meetings) obviously brought interesting snippets of news from the way most people looked eagerly back to the slip of parchment between Dumbledore's thumb and forefinger. He ran his free hand across his lined forehead and sighed slightly.

"But, I can see how overworked you all are. It is nothing of paramount importance and can wait until we are all better rested," Dumbledore said, although this obviously came after a strong mental conflict. People nodded gratefully and gravitated towards the low table Molly had laid out now that they were convening at the Burrow and not Grimmauld Place. Its short legs were bending even lower under the weight of all the food and drink balanced precariously upon it. A gentle hum settled over the place as people helped themselves to a refreshing drink or a little bit of pick-me-up food. Tonks, who was biting into a homemade Cauldron Cake and tending to a cup of milky tea, felt a little tap on her shoulder and turned around to see the face of Charlie Weasley. She hadn't realised he was at the meeting and felt a bit guilty.

"Tonks! How are you?" he smiled, freckled features looking a bit tired but content,

"I'm pretty good," Tonks said and it was a lie that came automatically now. She knew most people didn't believe her, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything about it. "What about you, how come you're not in Romania?"

"At the moment I'm under the impression the Order needed my services more than the dragons do, I'm owed a few weeks of holiday and I can do without the pay," he replied honestly.

"Some holiday though, huh?" she sighed sympathetically and he nodded.

"But, whatever I can do to help is good," he added and she smiled a little. She liked Charlie, talking to him was easy and simple. It had been awkward for a little while after they had broken up – trying to move from close friends to partners and back again had been difficult to say the least – but now they were all back to normal. Tonks _had_ worried a little while back, before Remus, that Charlie wanted to give 'them' another try but now at least Tonks knew she had nothing to worry about. What with her mousy brown hair, unenthusiastic countenance, small, hunched figure and tired, slightly sunken expression she looked rather as though she'd done a few rounds with the Dementors in Azkaban. No worry of anyone having a crush on her for the time being and she supposed her inability to morph wasn't all bad because that was just the way she wanted it until she got over Remus. Or he until he came back. She still hoped, although she knew it was stupid. She still hoped when she walked out of the Auror office that he might be waiting for her or when she opened her front door he'd be on the sofa preparing to ask her to get back together with him. If someone knocked on her door or she heard that little crackle in her fireplace which told her that someone's face was about to appear in the ashes she would catch her breath and pray. But it was all in vain. Remus hadn't been in contact at all. She hoped _someone_ knew where he was and that he was safe because if not, and she felt her throat constrict at the very thought, for all she knew he was just as likely to be lying hurt or dead somewhere as he was to be alive and well.

"I heard you were a right trooper today," Charlie said cheerfully, his voice eventually breaking through the heavy weight in her head.

"It was nothing."

"It must have been something," he countered, "Dumbledore's impressed," he insisted. "Merlin, even Mad-Eye's impressed; surely you must know that that hasn't happened since about 1984?" he joked and Tonks laughed obligingly.

"Well, at the time it felt like nothing – just what I _had_ to do, y'know? And now, well, it's even more hazy and distant like the whole situation was a dream so, it really does feel a bit of a let down to me," she insisted and Charlie nodded.

"When you put it like that, it makes a little more sense," he said soothingly and just as he did so Tonks felt a firm knock to her back, pushing her closer to Charlie. In fact, they were uncomfortably close; her chest pressed against his. She blushed.

"Sorry, I don't know what..." she trailed away as Snape appeared in her peripheral.

"Sorry about that," he said blandly. It wasn't as though he had taken great pleasure in causing Tonks discomfort; he just wasn't overly sorry either.

"S'alright Severus," she muttered, pulling herself away from Charlie and vanishing the stain her tea and cake had caused.

"So I suppose I'd better add to the congratulations," the Professor went on, as disinterestedly as before.

With that, Tonks really felt the need to leave. She had had enough now.

Yeah she'd fought off Death Eaters and saved lives. It _did_ sound impressive like that but it wasn't as though she was Madam Malkin and she imagined the little witch popping out of her shop and hexing passing Death Eaters. She was a trained and experienced Auror for Merlin's sake. Just because of what had happened with Remus and just because she was a little down, it didn't make her any less capable than before.

"Tonks was just saying to me, how she feels she was only doing her job," Charlie said and Tonks shot him an appreciative smile.

"Well quite right really," Snape answered, "but everyone else seems pretty impressed so I thought 'better not break with tradition' and here we are," he sighed. "Still I bet you were pleased Dumbledore didn't go on with his little message," he went on and there it was; the malice was back in voice where before he had been his usual uncaring self.

"Don't know what you're talking about Severus," Tonks shot back, "and, quite frankly, I haven't had a bloody clue about anything you've said since you started rambling earlier and I couldn't give a flying Krup's arse if you want the truth," she said her patience fast waning. She wanted to sleep for ever and ever – not in a suicidal sort of way, more of a 'why don't human's hibernate?' way. Charlie snorted into his drink.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way Nymphadora, but I was merely saying that it can't be a pleasant reminder, can it? He writes frequently to Dumbledore but I bet you haven't heard a peep...or should I say bark?" he concluded demurely before draining his cup, wandering off to the fireplace and Flooing away.

"Well, Tonks, you must be tired, won't you stay over?" Molly Weasley had long since appeared at Charlie's elbow, her mother-hen, concerned look more prominent than ever.

"What was that all about?" Tonks demanded, her voice dangerously low.

Charlie looked startled (well aware of what was brewing) and wandered off.

"Now dear, you know we all worry and care for you. Mad-Eye and myself, well we thought it in your best interests -"

"Just tell me Molly, please, everyone else knows."

Molly opened her mouth and then closed it again, thinking. But Tonks already knew. Of course she did. It was Remus. Not content without a bit of war effort, he had been writing to Dumbledore.

"Everyone's been laughing at me, behind my back."

"No dear, not at all," Molly insisted but Tonks, keen not to make a scene had already Summoned her cloak.

"Everyone knew Remus had been in touch except me. Why shouldn't I know?"

"Well we all thought -"

"He and I _used_ to have something together, so why should that mean he can't write to someone else entirely? You should have told me Molly," Tonks whispered, tears in her eyes. She wasn't angry at Molly or any of them, not really. But she _did_ feel a fool and she did want to go home and cry and then go to sleep.

She made her unsteady way to the door, wrapping the purple cloak tight around her shoulders and the cold bit into her as she wandered away, fully aware that Molly was right behind her.

"Won't you stay dear? It's so late, please, we didn't mean to -"

"No, thanks Molly," Tonks said sharply, got outside the boundaries, turned on her heel and Disapparated. When she appeared outside her flat she let the tears flow freely down her cheeks at the words Molly had said before Tonks had disappeared:

"_He mentions and asks after you, several times in one letter. Dumbledore only told me that because he needed to ask someone who knew how you were, so he could reply with honesty..."_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: Well sorry about the wait but it's a bit longer to make up for it. Also, I couldn't find anything about Tonks' wand in canon, so I made up what I thought suited her. If anyone knows what it is, please tell me in your review. Again, in terms of spells I didn't know many and a search didn't produce many more so a few are made up, but I hope they sound okay. That's all for now. Once again, please don't expect any updates too soon or too a particularly high standard for reasons mentioned above.**

**Thanks to all my regular readers and reviewers and again I'm going to plug for a few reviews in order to get the concric and feedback I feel I personally need and benefit from (and not that little number beneath my fic). Thanks in advance. **

**I hope I'll be able to post again soon but please don't lose hope if I don't, this fic is still in progress.**


	6. Homelessness Revisited

**A/N: Hi everybody! I'm –a – back! Now everything's settling down a bit, I've found a bit of writing time. I know review-wise this fic hasn't got much attention but traffic and alerts tell me that there ****are**** more than just one or two readers, so in light of that I don't feel too much of a failure with this. **

**Please do let me know that you're all out there! I'd love some concric and feedback. Anyway small plea over, I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a bit of a shorter one and just a connective one really but we're back to the POV of our favourite werewolf so, without further ado here it is:**

**Disclaimer: I'm feeling pretty uninventive tonight so *insert comment about lack of ownership here*.**

Chapter 6: Homelessness Revisited

Remus cleared his scratchy throat as he finished reading a letter from Dumbledore whilst was lying sprawled out on the bed that he now rather fondly thought of as his.

He had heard through the Tentacula-vine that Diagon Alley had been subject to a huge and unprecedented Death Eater attack and he had known, like Dumbledore, that it had only been a matter of time before Voldemort and his cronies decided to try and take Ollivander for questioning and it had come as no surprise that they were willing to use any means necessary – it was natural that even the Lord of all things Dark had wanted to know why his wand wouldn't work against Harry's. But undoubtedly the most important thing of all to Voldemort was that he found a solution to the problem and, Remus thought with a little pang of satisfaction, it was because of the Order that he had failed in doing so. Remus was indescribably proud of his friends, even though it seemed foolish to feel that way.

And it had been a good job that the Order _had _been on the Quaffle, so to speak, because during every meeting in which Remus had been present, the Aurors and Ministry workers amongst them had ominously warned that Scrimgeour refused to accept the threat that Voldemort posed as a real and serious one. Remus himself had been one of the party that had gone, as incongruously as possible, to see Ollivander not a fortnight before he had left Tonks. However, despite their best efforts the elderly Wizard, having acknowledged the threat and thanked them for their concern, had turned down an offer of a twenty-four-hour guard or a secret house complete with_ fidelius charm_. That had been just over a month before Voldemort had acted, no more.

If the Order hadn't been prepared, Remus thought it likely that the Death Eaters would have taken Ollivander in two seconds flat, with no opposition whatsoever. Moreover, if it hadn't been for Tonks things would have turned out a lot worse. Remus, for all the use it would do now, felt another overpowering surge of pride that Tonks had fared so well, which mingled pleasantly with a huge, warming sense of happiness that she had got out ok. Because, now they were no longer together, that was one of Remus' primary sources of worry and panic: what if Tonks got injured in the line of fire and he couldn't say goodbye one last time? What if she died and he was the last to know? He didn't think he could lose her twice.

Or at least, the stupid part of him that still believed in fairytales didn't.

He was still clinging on to this invented scenario where the war ended favourably, people had seen that werewolves weren't all bad and he could get back with Tonks. But of course that would never happen. Not unless someone invented a cure for lycanthropy – not that he hadn't imagined that enough times too. But again, he was being stupid; a dreamer. He was living in a fantasy that could never become reality. Even if he could be less of a threat to her and if all the anti-werewolf propaganda stopped he doubted if Tonks would ever even want to set eyes on him again; he certainly wouldn't blame her if that were the case. Either that or she'd hex him the moment she saw him, which was probably no less than he deserved. He genuinely had no idea that she missed him as much as he missed her...

Unbeknownst to Remus, all Molly and Dumbledore's reports of Tonks were highly embellished, when they wrote in their letters:

'_And in answer to your final question, Remus, Tonks is fine. Obviously she is quietly missing having you around but she is faring well and keeping strong. In short, she is okay...'_ they were failing to mention the tears that spilt into her cup of tea, ice cold and still untouched hours after Molly had given it to her at ridiculous times of night, failing to mention the frustration at work and still more tears that Kingsley and Mad-Eye pretended not to notice. They were failing to mention all the extra hours she worked and overtime she did as well as her obsession with Order duties because she now needed something to pass the time, so she didn't think about being alone. They had not mentioned the arguments she had almost weekly with her mother, who told her it was time to cheer up and find another boyfriend (one who actually qualified as a _boy_friend: one that wasn't thirteen years older than her and also a werewolf). It seemed to have escaped their memory that she avoided going out when she didn't have to and certainly never allowed herself to get too close to anyone new, particularly if they were male. But perhaps the most important thing they had forgotten to mention was that she was tired – exhausted, in fact – and always looked drawn and positively weary. She seemed constantly ill and had lost all control over her morphing; something which seemed to have thrown her almost as much as losing Remus had. It seemed to make her disappointed in herself and she was always putting herself down and making herself seem small.

But despite this, she was always '_quiet but fine'_ to Remus, who did not think about Dumbledore or Molly's responses too long because it meant that he didn't have to consider the possibility that they were lying; he was reading what he wanted to read: that Tonks was okay and was living her life without him. He had thought to himself every day since he had left her that all he wanted was for her to be happy and he was content in believing what the letters he read had to say.

From his bed, he summoned a piece of parchment and his quill and ink, preparing to write a reply to Dumbledore about some possible Death Eater-related pieces of news in the Muggle papers; the Appleby family still hadn't been located, their friends and the police were appealing for them to get in contact and one newspaper was offering a reward that was going up by thousands of pounds for anyone who finds them or any crucial news that leads to their recovery. Also, more people had been found dead with no obvious signs of injury to the Muggle doctors (which meant it was highly likely they had been victims of the Avada Kedavra curse) and the Muggles were beginning the panic that some sort of incurable, undetectable disease was going to spread and start a pandemic. Worst of all, a small boy who lived in a village not far north from Remus' town had been rushed to hospital after he had been attacked by what looked to his parents like a _'large, shaggy dog'_ or so the newspaper put it. The police had not been able to trace the animal or a potential owner and the press had obtained no information from the hospital except a few snippets from a junior doctor who informed them that '_a specialist in dealing with these types of injuries sustained by very young children' _(again the paper's words)had arrived at the hospital after the boy was admitted and, after speaking with his mother, took him to a _'specially equipped private clinic'_. To Remus (and the rest of the magical community) that meant only one thing. The young boy had not been attacked by a dog or normal wolf, but by a werewolf. In these cases, both the Ministry and the Board of Health at St. Mungo's intervene, seeing the need to take afflicted Muggles into the care of the Wizarding community. The boy's life would be altered forever, he would be pitied because he was so young and then, once he entered adolescence, he would be regarded with hatred and suspicion because he ceased to be a poor innocent child. Remus knew because that was more or less how it had played out for him, only it was potentially easier because he was a Wizard; he at least had some compensation for a permanent magical ailment. The boy was a Muggle – he would have to try and get a normal job and would never get the chance to integrate properly into this new magical world he had entered, because he could never go to Hogwarts if there was no natural magic in him.

Remus wondered if Elian Cato had heard about this; it was just the kind of information he and his group were interested in for two principal reasons: firstly, it told them that Greyback had a pack stationed nearby and secondly once the boy was released from St. Mungo's they were the kind of people that he and his parents might want to hear from. It would be far from the first time that one of the 'Valhalla' members had gone to see a Muggle who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Remus had been in contact with Elian a lot since he had been shown the clearing in the woods even though he still wasn't an official member. He felt a little like he imagined Harry and his friends had when they had started up their defence club last school year (Dumbledore's Army, he believed it had been called) – being part of a group who wanted to fight back was exciting and nerve wracking in equal measure but it was also a great commitment and Remus had not liked the idea of classifying himself in terms of his lycanthropy, because that was essentially what 'Valhalla' was and that just wasn't something he was comfortable with. Nonetheless, he put in an appearance there from time to time if the Order had given him information for Elian or vice versa and already knew a few faces and had a few visitors in _The White Horse. _

Gathering up and concealing his letters and quill and ink he left his room and, sheltering himself in a coat and gloves, stepped out into the cold, dark afternoon.

Angry grey clouds patchworked themselves across the sky, blocking out what little light the lethargic winter sun could provide. It looked like impending bad weather and the smell of a storm was in the air.

_Pathetic fallacy if ever I saw one_, Remus thought with a small smile, remembering his Muggle education as a child.

As he wondered as casually and nonchalantly down the road as possible, his hands bunched into his pockets, he cast a few glances over his shoulder and ducked into a damp side street. When he thought he was safe from any prying eyes, he pressed his own shut and felt the familiar swirl of Apparition steal around his body and settle in the pit of his stomach as he felt himself being sucked out of the street.

He sensed and smelt the forest around him before he reopened his eyes in order to see it and, sure enough, he found himself exactly where he wanted to be, just on the fringes of the Valhalla Clearing. All but the Pine trees had given up the beauty of their leaves for the winter and had left themselves looking bald, emaciated and exposed to the elements. The track beneath his feet was soft and slippery from a constant mist of drizzle that was falling in unyielding sheets and soaking his hair and face.

With his surroundings now much more familiar to him in spite of the poor visibility, he made his way into the Clearing and asked a passerby if they knew where he could find Elian and was directed to a wooden building right at the back of Valhalla Clearing.

He knocked and entered quickly, keen to get away from the unfavourable conditions of heavy drizzle and biting November air. Inside a fire was crackling merrily away and it was warm and cosy. Three men were sat around a table, the one facing Remus looked up and the features of Elian Cato, orange in the firelight, split into a smile.

"Ah, Remus, nice to see you again so soon!" he said as he stood, walked around the table and grasped Remus' hand warmly. "Do you know either of these two fine gentlemen?" he asked and Remus was greeted by a familiar, blonde-haired man to his left and an unknown man on his right.

"I know Luca," he smiled at his acquaintance, whom he had met about two weeks ago and had become a frequent visitor of his in _The White Horse._

Luca Icarus, a muggleborn Wizard, had been attacked and bitten when he was twenty-one. Eleven years later and he had lost his job and his property in the war and had been forced to move into one of the shelters in the woods. He had brought with him his wife Adèlle, a French Witch, and his three young children, Hector, Helen and Jessie. His story had made Remus question his own choices when they had first met (one evening in _the White Horse_ when Elian had been able to meet Remus and had sent Luca instead). Luca had had the courage to start a family where Remus had backed out of his relationship with Tonks. Luca had admitted one night in the pub when they were both heading precariously to the wrong side of sober that he had at first felt selfish for staying with Adèlle but his being bitten had not changed the way she saw him and they had been together since they were eighteen; he hadn't been willing to give that up. When he had asked if Remus had left anyone behind to stay at _The White Horse _he had lied – he wasn't ready to talk about Tonks yet. It was like he was guarding her. She was a secret buried deep inside and he felt as though he could never give her up because only once he admitted that he had left her would their relationship truly be over. Or that was how he perceived it to be.

"Well this is Milo," Elian introduced the man sitting opposite Luca who looked up and gave a tight-lipped smile in greeting. He was tall and broad and seemed altogether too big to be sat on the small wooden chair in the very small room. He reminded Remus of Hagrid in many ways, except the bushy hair. Remus also doubted very much that he was actually half-giant; just that he was built to bigger proportions than most other people.

"Am I interrupting?" Remus asked as he sat down and Elian shook his head with a friendly smile,

"Not if you've brought some of your invaluable information,"

"Looks like you're in luck then," Remus smiled back and began to reel off the facts of the attack at Diagon Alley that the _Daily Prophet_ had either left out or had not been privy to.

The three nodded and listened raptly, frowning at specific details of the escapades of particular Death Eaters, most notably Lucius Malfoy – who had persecuted many a werewolf during his Ministry days – and of course Fenrir Greyback, the most notorious of names around Valhalla.

After he had finished Elian and Luca expressed feelings of reassurance that the Order were so well-prepared and organised and Remus felt another pang of pride at his friends, although again he felt it rather misplaced – it was _he_ who had left _them_ after all; not really a model example of the behaviour of a true friend and ally. Milo remained silent but had fixed an unnerving, grey-eyed stare on him which Remus was reluctant to meet, so pretended to read through his letter from Dumbledore.

He then went on to report the cases in the Muggle papers, as he seemed to be the only one with time enough to read them. Remus was soon tasked with finding out details on the young boy so that they could pay his family a visit in the near future.

Silence fell for a few minutes save for the cracks of wood in hearth yielding to the flames that engulfed them and the constant _sshh_ of drizzle on the window.

"We were just discussing our options regarding a certain werewolf group of Greyback's, we'd value your opinion, Remus," Luca said, his light brown eyes twinkling in the firelight. "The most powerful of You Know Who's werewolf groups, the one that Greyback is in himself, is claiming territory nearby and are planning to set up camp near a village, or rather near a village _school_, one week prior to the full moon in order to wreak as much havoc as possible, firstly with wands and then with claws. We know this because we have an agent acting as a member of this pack who is passing us information."

At this thought, Remus shuddered. He himself had played double agent in one of these groups and the conditions were not exactly five star – it had been one of the worst experiences of his life, and that was saying something. However, he did not admit this. Once again failing to show any of that Gryffindor courage he'd supposedly been sorted according to, he did not wish to be asked to repeat the experience.

"Would you and your Order wait and see what they did or intervene before anyone was hurt?"

Remus was loathe to hear the Order of the Phoenix referred to as 'his' but let it pass.

"When it comes to Fenrir Greyback, we never took anything for granted," was all he could think to say, but it seemed to suffice for the three men who nodded solemnly.

"We were thinking of heading there next Tuesday to do a bit of observation and stir things up a bit if needs be. That should be enough time before the full moon on Saturday shouldn't it?" Elian mused aloud and there was a murmur of consent.

After looking over some maps and charts Remus made his goodbyes and, throwing caution to the wind, Apparated straight into his room which was, mercifully, void of any staff or visitors.

-/-/-

Freshly showered and changed he made his way downstairs, an idea of a pub meal the only real thought on his mind.

However, when he got to the bar he was met by the worried face of Charlie the barman.

"Ah, Remus, can I have word?" he asked, wiping a glass long since clean and dry, so that he didn't have to look him in the face.

"Of course, is something the matter?"

"It's just, well even though we're busy every night, what with all the outgoing costs and these government hikes, the business isn't going all that well," he admitted with a frown.

"And you need me to start paying full price?" Remus prompted, hoping that that was all it was – he would find the money from somewhere; he always did.

"Well, I wish things were that good Remus, I really do. The truth is, I've had to sell the second and third floors to a developer who have seen some potential in them for some venture or another, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave, in the next week or so," he said quietly, running his hand over his face and Remus saw that he was genuinely upset by the whole situation. "I'm truly sorry Remus, I've held it off for as long as possible and well I've been dreading telling you. You and your family have been such good friends over the years and here I am throwing you out on your ear,"

"Don't worry Charlie," he sighed. What was the use in protesting, or ranting about money troubles or even asking for a time extension? He would just have to gather up some resolve and either go home with his metaphorical tail between his legs or join the ranks at Valhalla. "There's nothing you can do about it Charlie, so don't beat yourself up. I'll just have a drink and something to eat then I'll be out your way."

And that was how it went. Remus Lupin was homeless again.

As he went back up to the room he had called home Charlie had all but begged him to see the week out, but Remus had refused, but had promised his friend that he would still come in for a drink and he assured him that there was no offence taken.

He traipsed up the stairs and, sighing and collecting his things together, Remus once again packed his trusty suitcase. He'd made up his mind - he knew where he was going to go: a penniless, homeless werewolf didn't have much choice in the matter.

* * *

**A/N: As usual, thanks for reading! **

**Sooo, if anyone has time, please let me know if the chapter was above average, not up to scratch or pretty in keeping with the rest of the fic as, after not writing this'un for a while, I feel I could use some objective verdicts.**

**Thanks in advance.**

**Next chapter should hopefully been up soon. Have a good weekend, whatever you're doing and, if like me you're a British student, have an enjoyable end to the well-deserved half term break =). **


	7. Auror Abandoned

**A/N: Hello any readers that I still have left! Sorry for the delay. Anyone who has tried to do A Levels or the like will understand what a drain they are on your time!**

**Anyway I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 7: Auror Abandoned

She cast long, slender shadows across the deserted room as she rubbed a wand-calloused hand over her pale, drawn face and allowed it to continue its path from her forehead, so reminiscent of her mother's (and Aunt Bellatrix's), and up to her short, mousy brown hair, the presence of which was a great source of consternation. Just another reminder that she couldn't even control her morphing anymore. Her dark eyes too, simply couldn't regain their old sparkle. More immediate problems, however, had ensured that her head and neck throbbed painfully, giving her something more to worry about than her drab hair and glum expression. She rose from the wooden desk, every inch of it covered in piles of parchment (both in files and loose), ink bottles and quills, knowing that she would _have_ to tidy it tomorrow. Procrastination, as it always did, had essentially put her even further behind. She blew out the solitary, stubby candle, no more than an inch high and bent to pick up one of the stacks of files. Her back clicked noisily as she did so and she winced. It had been a _very_ long day.

Tonks knew that she was, by now, in desperate need of a break. Her body was telling her she needed to rest, even if her mind wanted to do anything but. Everyone, including herself, was fully away by now that she was having one of _those_ phases; where nothing ever goes right – not her work, her Order duties and definitely not her social (or, indeed, love) life, not that she needed to remind herself that she had still heard nothing from Remus. Even her previous Diagon Alley triumph seemed to have faded into nothing in the time that had passed. Her status as a highly intelligent, independent woman awarded her the once comforting knowledge that these phases come and go, the problems caused are nearly always reversible and at some point a light would appear at the end of the tunnel. However, that sentiment just didn't seem to be working anymore. She didn't seem to be able to keep on top of her Auror or Order work respectively and she still hadn't regained her power over her morphing. She had tried to tell herself that there was no use in crying over spilt pumpkin juice but her volatile emotions at the moment did not seem to agree with her. And said volatile emotions were telling her she needed a hug. And maybe some chocolate. It was just that chocolate reminded her of Remus now.

On top of missing the aforementioned werewolf, in startling contrast to her recent career-related conquests, she had just endured the worst day in the history of Auror-kind. She had woken up late (as usual), almost sprained her ankle as she nearly tripped over a stray pair of jeans as she rushed to the shower, spilt breakfast over one of the only sets of robes she possessed that did not need a good ironing charm over them and was therefore forced to change into a set that was as far from the Ministry dress-code as humanly possible, without actually being insulting. She just didn't bother with the housework anymore now that she was only taking care of herself.

The state of her robes, along with her tardiness earned her a telling off from both Kingsley and Scrimgeour. Add to this terrible start, how behind she was on her paperwork, how physically and emotionally taxed she was feeling, an over-cocky Umbridge sniffing around and the nasty (and seemingly ferociously anti-Metamorphmagus) secretary in their office the only conclusion that could be drawn was that Nymphadora Tonks was going to have a seriously bad headache, probably as early as her 10 o'clock break.

The final crisis within her daily working hours (she had been forced to work overtime to catch up) was that she had totally forgotten the Ministry had recently put up strong protection charms and other such defences around the homes of all Aurors and that, on top of that, she already had Order protection from Dumbledore. Consequently, trying to Apparate into a flat as well protected as hers had left her in serious trouble; the hardy Anti-Apparition Charm (a tricky piece of magic that literally bounced people away from a certain destination if they tried to Apparate into it) Moody had put up for her was so strong it had repelled her straight into some unknown place; all she _had_ known was that those disgruntled Muggle goat farmers she had all but landed on certainly weren't speaking English. Three memory charms and a more calculated Apparition destination later, she had arrived back at the office a good half an hour late. _Late again _as Kingsley had kindly reminded her.

This extra protection on her flat meant that she was forced to Floo to a 'Communal Fireplace' one block away from her flat. This, to her, seemed just as dangerous as not having anti-Apparition charms, because she now had to walk to her flat in the dark with an arm-full of parchment. However, she apparently had no choice, so straightened up; the paperwork stacked haphazardly in her arms, and made her way from the Auror office to the only Ministry fireplace in operation, which happened to be in the Department of Magical Transport, for obvious reasons. This meant she had to get to the sixth level of the Ministry building without the lift as it was not operational at night anymore, after the exploits of Harry, Ron and the others in the Department of Mysteries not that long ago, not to mention the now prevalent Death Eater threat. That meant she had to tackle four sets of stairs – in the dark.

Half an hour later, she rounded the final corner without incident. She could see her destination and was glad for it. She had met no-one along the eerie, deserted staircases and had seen only a few offices with lit candles when she made her way through the darkened corridors of each department. The occasional silhouette could be seen, animalistic in shape, as the employee hunched over their work or, in one case, sat massaging their temples, their slender fingers casting spindly, shivering shadows across the wall opposite.

Tonks bit her lip as she concentrated on getting to the fireplace, her eyelids drooping as she watched where she was shuffling her feet, her arms becoming the latest part of her body to hurt. Now, the majority of her body was taking part in a choreographed throbbing. Then, just as she fancied she could smell the hot chocolate brewing and taste the biscuits, one tiny, loose piece of parchment fluttered lazily and mockingly to the ground. She swore loudly and unwisely bent to pick it up...

-/-/-

It took her a good quarter of an hour to gather up the all parchment she had dropped and then bind it all together magically so that if she dropped it again the pieces would at least stay together. Tucking the heavy pile under her left arm she took a pinch of Floo Powder and threw it into the fireplace. As orange embers burst into green flame she stepped inside and said clearly, "St. James' Church, London," which was where her communal fireplace was, in a disused room. From there, the user Apparated outside the church and made their way home. There were many of these Communal Fireplaces around the UK, now that Flooing had become another everyday activity considered too dangerous to partake in. Tonks' own Department within the Ministry had decided that having household fireplaces connected to the Floo Network was effectively enabling anyone access into their home, so the Network was more or less shut down. Tonks felt the familiar prickly warmth engulf her as ash stung her eyes and burnt the back of her throat. She tucked her elbows tight to her and clutched the parchment to her chest as she slowly began to revolve.

The smell of ash was replaced by the musty smell of the shadowy, disused church room which Tonks was keen to leave behind. There was something about it that gave her chills in a similar way the winter air did as she Apparated to an alley that was a mere five minute walk from her flat (which was as close as she could get without being rebounded into Albania – or wherever the hell she had ended up last time). She kept her arms crossed over the parchment and her head facing downwards as she walked briskly towards the lane that led to the building she called home.

Flopping onto the sofa a minute later she knew it was a sanctuary she could enjoy for only a few minutes. She had finally given into her mother's (and Molly's) fussing and had agreed to go round for some 'good home-cooking' at her parents' house because it 'looked like she hadn't eaten a good square meal for weeks' which was probably pretty accurate actually.

Within half an hour she had showered and changed and had made her way to the alley she had materialised in earlier.

-/-/-

"Really Nymphadora, don't you think you're perhaps just not trying hard enough?" her mother asked as she bustled in with a steaming dish of homemade apple pie. Tonks saw her father roll her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.

"Quite sure mother, don't you think if I could morph then I would? Or did you think I was choosing to look like this now?"

"Well I'd just perhaps wondered if..." her mother began but stopped when her husband shook his head.

"So, how's work?" her dad asked and, although she appreciated his efforts he was no less tiring than her mother.

"Dad, you've asked me that twice already," she said gently, smiling at him.

"Oh...oh...did I?" he asked. "Sorry love," he muttered sheepishly, digging into a plentiful helping of pie.

Tonks herself felt that she might just explode if she ate another bite but no matter how much she tried to insist that three helpings of her mother's traditional roast beef supper was more than enough she was met with the same knowing look and infuriating reply.

"Now Nymphadora, I know you haven't been taking care of yourself recently and I'm going to make sure you get at least one proper meal a week, otherwise I wouldn't be doing a very good job as your mother."

And what was most infuriating was that Tonks didn't have the heart to reply, because she knew that her mother was not _trying_ to be difficult and that she genuinely had her best interests at heart. She was fussing because she loved her and Tonks, although never having had the best relationship with her mother, loved her too.

She only wished her mum would try and understand her better.

"Darling, now don't take this the wrong way but, I think it's high time we had a bit of a chat about this break up."

She saw her dad's eyes widen and he began to shake his head frantically but two icy glares cut him off. He knew better than anyone that, for all his wife and daughter's mutual affection, when they argued it seemed like the whole house trembled with fear. Getting up so quickly he nearly knocked his chair over he said,

"Why don't I do the washing up for a change? Give you two a chance for a well-deserved rest."

It took Andromeda a moment to realise what her husband had said and she shouted some instructions after him, the house-proud Black in her not willing to let her husband get his wand in a knot over the washing up. Tonks could almost see her cringing in fear that the plates would re-enter the cupboard without being cleaned to her own high standard or worse, they would not re-enter the cupboard at all and would be dropped on the floor to shatter into tiny porcelain pieces.

When she was done panicking she turned her attention back to her daughter.

Their conversation about Remus was frosty to say the least but they did not argue, much to Ted's relief.

In the end, Tonks made her excuses and parted with her parents on reasonably good terms. She went home and, too lazy to find some pyjamas, she wrestled out of her clothes and searched around in her underwear until she found Remus' old jumper and, struggling into it, fell into bed and was asleep instantly.

She stumbled bleary-eyed into her office in robes that were just as inappropriate as the day before, earning her a snide remark from the bitchy receptionist. However in a dramatic turn of events she was early so that she could tidy her desk and both gestures earned her a myriad of jokes from Kingsley.

Their good moods were disintegrated, however, before the day had really got started when they got a message about a Death Eater attack on some Muggles, causing all their moods to sober. As action resumed in the office once the attack had been discussed, and a few Aurors had been sent to the scene, Tonks sighed and prepared to do go through the motions for yet another day that was much the same as the day before that, and the one before that too.

-/-/-

Remus on the other hand, while just as ill at ease without Tonks, felt as he woke up in Valhalla headquarters that he really had a sense of purpose and was truly able to do some good work.

The previous day, he had been to see the parents of the young child in the Muggle papers, accompanied by a characteristically silent Milo. The little boy was called Jamie and was in surprisingly good spirits despite the pain he must have been in. He was being kept in a side room in St. Mungo's away from prying eyes and hadn't known that he was in a magical hospital with magical wounds. No-one had known how to tell him that he was a werewolf now and that he had become the monster under the bed that he made his father, Terry, check for every night.

He had beamed at Remus when he gave him the Muggle train toy they had brought with them, and after being prompted to say thank-you by his mother, Caroline, he began playing with it immediately.

Then, the adults had a whispered conversation about what to do for the best. Both Milo and Remus had insisted that he was told sooner rather than later with the slow but sure approach of the full moon. No-one, however, had wanted to break the news to the happy, carefree little boy and Remus had quickly realised that he was the one best qualified to tell the boy, having been bitten at the exact age Jamie was now. He had offered somewhat reluctantly and Terry and Caroline Havers had begged him to help them through all this. Remus had again, agreed, not knowing what else to say.

The conversation that ensued had been surprisingly easier than Remus had envisioned. He supposed that telling a child that magic really did exist and getting them to believe you was not all that difficult and when Jamie had found out he was a werewolf, unaware of what transforming would entail, he had simply said 'cool!' Most little boys would give anything to be able to turn into a wolf.

Remus had to fight back a shiver when he thought of how it would be when Jamie found out the truth in just a few short weeks. At least Elian was procuring him a small supply of Wolfsbane potion, that would be something and was certainly more than Remus had had.

When he reported this to some of the members that evening a wave of nods and a murmur of assent had rippled outwards and for a second they were all silent, thinking and pitying.

This morning though, despite the winter weather, spirits were higher as they began planning their expedition to the newly constructed camp that Greyback and his allies had set up. They would all be Apparating there in a few days' time and Remus was hoping to receive a letter from Molly or Dumbledore before then, so that he could read about Tonks and write back letting them know where he was going – just in case.

One thing was certain, they were going to have a fight on their hands.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think.**

**I'll update again as soon as I can.**

**Also, just a heads up for some of you who are interested: I now have a home at Tumblr. I post Harry Potter, Remus/Tonks, Helena Bonham Carter and random things from my life and brain. I would lovelovelove to hear from some of you on there! Follow me, let me know who you are and I shall follow you back! I am: stainedglasswindows (.tumblr .com)**

**Much love to you all!**


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